The Same Life
by forallthosewho
Summary: There was a puff of smoke, a ringing sensation, and Harry Potter disappeared. DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS! Alternate Universe, but canon.
1. Chapter 1

"Ron, wake up. Ron, it's just a dream. It'll all be okay. Shh…Ron, open your eyes," Harry could hear Hermione's soft coaxing voice.

Harry didn't have to open his eyes to realize what was going on. It had been two months since the supposed epic battle at Hogwarts that ended with Voldemort's death. Perhaps it should have been a happy time, with rejoicing and celebration, but for many, it was just mere relief. Too many people lost too many loved ones and Harry and his friends were no exception.

"No, no no, no, no," whispered Ron, still in his sleep induced state.

Harry immediately jumped to his feet.

"Ron, WAKE UP!"

His friend finally jerked awake and looked around in confusion.

"Oh, thank God, thank God…." said the redheaded boy once he realized he was just in his room at the Burrow.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. If Harry had a less clear mind, he might have laughed. How many times had Ron and Hermione exchanged such glances as Harry's scar forced him to have visions about Voldemort's plans and emotions?

"It's okay, Ron," Hermione was rubbing Ron's back, "Everything's okay."

Harry fiddled with his hands awkwardly. He didn't know what to do in this situation. Really, what could he possibly say? When it had been him having nightmares, there was something to discuss because his dreams meant something that had to be figured out for the sake of information and comprehension of Voldemort's plans. But, Ron, he was having just dreams, unreal and inexplicable dreams. Actually, they weren't quite inexplicable because Harry knew exactly why Ron was having those dreams.

It was never expected that the battle against Voldemort would be easy. After all, Tom Marvolo Riddle didn't become Lord Voldemort and gather so many followers for being entirely stupid. No, one cannot deny that he definitely had power and talent. But, Harry never quite foresaw the enormity of the battle. He never thought for an instant that the Death Eaters could control the ministry, and especially Hogwarts. Even if they did have Death Eaters teaching at Hogwarts, he never quite expected that there would be an all out war. But, it was. In a way, Harry cannot deny that there was some kind of beauty in that last battle. There was a sense of unity amongst the students and the teachers as they prepared to sacrifice their very lives for each other and for the school that had become their home. But, for all it's beauty, they paid a price and a heavy one at that.

"…….it'll be nice, won't it Harry?" Hermione was saying to him, catching him off guard.

"Huh? Oh yeah, it'll be great," Harry responded, not bothering to find out what it was that would be so nice. As usual, it'll just be something comforting to say to Ron so as to cheer him up the best they could. Harry was used to this by now. It had been happening almost everyday.

The whole Weasley household came apart at the seams as a result of Fred's death. Out of the entire battle, Fred's death was probably the most surreal. It wasn't that Harry did not grieve for Remus and Tonks and all the others that died, but it just did not seem possible that Fred Weasley could die. After all, he had always been there. Although Harry lived a good eleven years before he ever knew of the existence of a Fred Weasley, ever since the war, he could not remember a time before he met the Weasleys. But, it cannot help if, he too, starts retreating into this mist of grief. George was no where to be seen, Bill and Charlie rarely come around to the Burrow, and when they do, there's nothing but a glazed look on their face as though they see nothing but the ghost of their brother's face everywhere they turn. Percy walks around, seemingly expressionless and emotionless, with the random look of guilt as though he feels that he does not have the right to be at the Burrow when his brother isn't there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley perhaps have it the worst. They do say that a parent should never have to bury their child, right? And then there's Ginny. Harry had barely seen her since the end of the battle. She seemed to be the glue holding her family together. She's the one that helps Mrs. Weasley daily, sits with her father when no one else seems to be able to do so, talks to George, despite of his mood swings, commissions Bill and Charlie to come over, and smacks Percy and Ron when they need it. But, Harry knows better than to think that she's alright. He still hears her sobbing and Hermione's comforting words at night. Yes, the Weasley household was, in fact, coming apart.

"Can I talk to you outside a minute, Harry?" Hermione's voice once again brought him out from his thoughts.

"Uh yeah," said Harry, as he glanced at Ron, who was already back asleep.

The two friends stepped out and Harry looked Hermione questioningly.

"I know you've been through a lot, Harry," Hermione began, "and I know you're grieving too. I know you loved Fred like a brother and that you miss Remus and Sirius and Dumbledore, and I know that you have been through emotional hell."

"Hermi…" Harry started to interrupt her, before the witch cut him off.

"Listen, I know all of this, but you have got to be strong," Hermione's tear filled eyes looked straight into his, "because Voldemort dying isn't the end of this story. Not when there are lives that are in disarray. Ron needs you. He needs us. And so do the rest of the Weasleys. This might be harsh, Harry, but…."

She didn't need to finish the sentence. She knew he understood.

"I know," whispered Harry, "I just never expected that……"

And so, the friends sat in silence for a long time, thinking back to a time when death was incomprehensible and their deepest concern was their marks on their final exams.

"Harry, wake up. It's time for breakfast," he heard Ginny's voice, the next morning. He forgot that he even came back to bed the night before.

He instantly jerked awake and looked at her.

"Ginny, how are you?"

She gave him a half smile, but he was glad to see that it reached her eyes, albeit for just a fraction of a second.

"I'm fine Harry, but get up, will you? And get him out of bed," she waved her hand toward Ron, who was sleeping and muttering for five more minutes.

She looked back at him.

"He's been saying that for the past half hour and you," she looked at him appraisingly, "you've been completely zonked out.

"Yeah, you know beauty sleep and all," Harry joked.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. She really was beautiful.

"That's really funny, Harry, great joke," she said sarcastically.

Harry stood up and mock bowed before moving on to get ready to go down to breakfast.

"See you in a few minutes," Ginny said, before yanking off Ron's blankets to wake him up.

And as he began to brush his teeth, he could hear Ron's, "Bloody hell, Ginny…."

'Things have got to get normal, eventually,' he thought to himself, 'they just have to.'

When he finally got himself down for breakfast, he found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Hermione and Ron already there. Everyone looked somewhat tired, but no one mentioned anything. It was their unsaid policy—that no one ever says anything. He wasn't surprised at all to see that Percy and George once again did not present themselves for what had once been a routine activity.

"Hello, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley gave him a kiss on the cheek as she recently started to do every morning when he went to sit down, "do you want an omelet?"

Harry smiled at her. He couldn't help but admire her and had no doubt that it was from her that Ginny got her strength.

"I'm good with the toast, thanks Mrs. Weasley," he said.

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley rubbed her hands on her apron, and looked at Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny, "you kids are going to have to do some work today."

They looked her.

"Kingsley, I mean, the Minister of Magic will be staying with us for the next two days. Apparently he has some work to do around here and we've invited him to stay with us instead of a hotel. Also, Fleur's family will be coming down again and I'm sure they'll visit sometime at the Burrow too, so we need a bit of cleaning…" Mrs. Weasley almost looked pleased at the prospect of cleaning, as though this would somehow make everything in her house normal.

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied in an unusually high voice, as though this was her attempt to be strong for everyone else as they discussed last night.

"Ugh, has my room always been this messy," groaned Ron as they stood at the entrance to his bedroom to clean it up.

"Take the blame, mate," he pleaded, looking at Harry, "I don't reckon mum will be too happy if she thinks that I've done all this."

Harry laughed.

"No can do, Ron—I'm too good to be this messy," Harry made doe eyes and pouted.

"You're such a prat," said Ron, shooting him an evil look, throwing a box at Harry.

There was a puff of smoke, a ringing sensation, and Harry Potter disappeared.

Author's note: Apart from the two one-shots I've written here, I've never written anything in my life that wasn't for school, so please bare with me. I'm writing this more out of love for the amazing series that was Harry Potter than anything else, and I hope to make it somewhat decent. I welcome any suggestions that you may have because I know I need it. Also, I need help with how this website works. I tried to put space between the changing scenes of this story, but when I click enter, there's space as I edit, but when I save changes and look at the story, the space disappears. Does anyone even understand what I'm saying? Haha. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

Harry felt like a bludger had hit him over the head over and over again. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. He squinted as he forced his eyes to stay open and after a few minutes of adjusting, they allowed him to examine his surroundings.

'Wha--?' he thought to himself, unable to form a cohesive thought, 'Where on earth am I?'

He tried to sit up but found that he could not do so. In fact, he could barely move. It was as though he had been tied up, but obviously magically so, because there were no ropes or cuffs at his hand. Panic rose within him. This wasn't supposed to happen now. He had defeated Voldemort. Isn't he supposed to be able to live now? He looked around, but all he could see was white everywhere. There was nothing in the room with the exception of him and his bed. A horrible thought rose in Harry's mind: was he dead? After everything, did he just die?

There was a knock at the door.

Harry had a meager hope that maybe it would be Dumbledore on the other said, but before he could say anything, a medi-witch whom he had never seen before walked in.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him, with a no-nonsense attitude.

"I, well, I think I'm—I, where am…." Harry tried to ask as weariness and exhaustion overcame him once again.

The medi-witch looked at him suspiciously.

"You're at St.Mungo's Hospital."

"ST.MUNGO'S!" Harry whispered and yelled at the sametime, terrified, "Where are the Weasleys? Is everyone okay? What happened?!!"

"Sir, calm down," said the Medi-witch calmly as though this occurs everyday, "You were found by the Diggle brothers in the woods off of Macara. They saw that you had a wand and brought you to St.Mungo's. There was no one else with you."

Harry found it hard to breathe.

"What do you mean?" he asked, half talking to himself, "I was at the Burrow with the Weasleys. I don't even know where Macara or whatever is!"

The Medi-witch sighed.

"Sir, that is all the information we have. You should just be glad that it was wizards who found you."

Harry looked around and was about to ask more questions, but the medi-witch continued.

"You're fine. You have a concussion and some broken bones, but they were fixed pretty soon. You've been here for a little over 24 hours, but that's mostly because of exhaustion," she peered at him, "Now that you're awake, though, you'll have to answer a few questions. It seems that our system did not recognize you, and as you might know, in these times that's something to cause suspicion. The Auror department was just notified and they'll be here soon. In the meantime, if there's anyone you'd like to call, I can do so."

Harry's mind reeled: the Diggle brothers? Wouldn't Dedalus have recognized him? How in the world did he get into some random woods? Where were the Weasleys? Why were the times so suspicious? Why in the world would the Aurors want to question him, as though he were a criminal?

"Sir," the Medi-witch was looking at him expectantly, "Should I contact someone for you?"

"Uh, I'm really confused," Harry stared at her to see that she probably did not care very much, "so, I guess, could you fire-call the Weasleys? Arthur Weasley at the Burrow?"

"I'll do my best," the Medi-witch replied, before scampering out, "Expect Aurors Dawlish and Zambershan any minute now."

Harry barely had time to think about anything before Dawlish and Zambershan stood where the medi-witch had stood but a few seconds ago.

"Hello," said the man who had to be Zambershan. He was a big, burly man with what looked like would be a very ticklish moustache. Beside him stood Dawlish, who Harry recognized from their few encounters.

"Hi," replied Harry, contemplating his best plan of action, considering that neither looked like they recognized him. It was during times like these that Harry truly realized how much he needed Hermione around.

"Don't take this the wrong way, young man," Zambershan spoke again, "but you know what times are like. We've got to make sure that, you know, you're not under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's orders."

"I'm _NOT_ under Voldemort's orders!" Harry seemed to have finally found his tongue at the accusation of being one of Voldemort's lackeys—especially since Voldemort's dead!

Zambershan laughed uncomfortably.

"Of course you're not!" he said, "But, we've still got to make sure now, haven't we? Now, look at my friend here, and answer the questions we ask of you and everything will be fine!"

"And if I don't want to?" Harry asked coldly. He was terrified, not knowing where he was or anything about what was going on, but he wasn't going to answer anything without some answers first.

Dawlish finally spoke.

"I'm afraid that would make things difficult. We're all on the same side here. We'd rather not drag you down to the Ministry, use Veritaserum, and have a trial in front of Wizengamot, but if we have to, that's what we'll do. Trust me, this is the best way to go."

Harry looked at him and decided that the best course of action now would be to go with what Dawlish says, even if he's behaving completely insane. After all, Dawlish might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but he always fought for the right side.

"Okay," he replied.

Zambershan smiled widely at the aversion of conflict.

Harry stared into Dawlish's eyes. He knew that the instruction to look into his eyes meant that he would be using Occlumency against Harry. However, Harry knew that looking at Dawlish only when he was being asked questions meant that they were going to respect his privacy by not reaching into memories and would merely be ascertaining whether or not he was speaking the truth. Also, while Harry might not be the best at being a leglimen, he knew enough to know when his mind was being explored and he knew how to break the connection.

"What is your name?" Dawlish asked.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Harry Potter."

He could see Dawlish and Zambershan's dual expressions of confusion.

"Are you under the orders of You-Know-Who or any other Death Eaters?"

"No."

Dawlish gave Zambershan the slightest of nods to acknowledge that Harry had, indeed, spoken the truth, but Harry could see that neither seemed 100 satisfied.

"How did you end up in the Macara woods?"

"I do not know."

"Are you related to Auror James Potter?"

Harry stopped staring to Dawlish's eyes and looked at Zambershan disbelievingly.

"Are you serious?" he asked, "What the hell is going on here?"

Dawlish and Zambershan seemed to be confused as well.

"We're just trying to figure out….," Zambershan started.

"FIGURE OUT WHAT?!" Harry exclaimed, "Voldemort is DEAD! Death Eaters are at Azkaban! And you're asking ME if I'm a death eater and then you pretend as if you don't know who I am and what I am to James Potter."

He shook his head.

"No, I want you OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT!"

"I'm afraid that we cannot leave until," Zambershan began again, before Harry cut him off.

"I'm not saying another word. I want to see the Weasleys. I want to see Arthur Weasley. That's it!"

Dawlish and Zambershan seemed to know that Harry could not be convinced otherwise because they left with word that they'll be back with Arthur Weasley.

Author's note: If anyone is reading, I know the chapters are short right, but they will get longer.


	3. Chapter 3

"….says that You-Know-Who is dead!"

"What? Really?"

"And he says his name too!"

"Who is he?"

"I don't know, but he was adamant that he would not continue the conversation until he saw you, Arthur."

"What in the world could he want with me? You-Know-Who can't care enough about my family to go through some expansive scam…."

"We don't know that he is with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Of course he is, Humshock. Who else could he be with?"

"If he really is with You-Know-Who, why did you leave him all alone in this room?"

"For Merlin's sake, Totti, we put all sorts of wards in this room."

For the second time in three days, Harry Potter woke to sounds to people chatting in his room. He couldn't quite discern all the voices in the room, but he was fairly certain that one them had to be Arthur Weasley. However, it turns out that his own voice was far from functioning. He was pretty sure that the other voices were Dawlish, Zambershan, and the Medi-Witch, but he thought it to be quite stupid of them to talk about him in front of him if they suspected him to be a Death Eater, even if he was supposed to be asleep in their eyes.

Harry tried to open his mouth and say something, but the best he could do was mouth a few words. No sound seemed to be coming out of his vocal words. Needless to say, Harry was miserable.

"Shh….he seems to be waking up," he heard the Medi-Witch, the one he assumed to be Totti, say.

The blurred vision of her face came into his view. He opened his mouth and attempted to talk so as to show her that his voice was not working.

"Oh right," Zambershan came into his sight and uttered a spell, "Vocalis!"

He smiled. "You should be able to talk now. Sorry, you know we had to—precautions and all."

Harry did not understand what kind of a precaution entitled him to not be able to talk, but that wasn't the most pressing of his concerns at the moment. He immediately turned to the man who was the closest thing he had left for a father.

"Mr. Weasley, is everyone alright? Ron, Ginny, Hermione?"

However, the sight that caught him was quite surprising. Instead of the man who had stuck with him through thick and thin like a father would for his child, this Arthur Weasley was looking at him as though he were the plague.

"Uh, they're all fine," Mr. Weasley said nervously. It was easy to tell that he was just afraid that Harry would blow a fuse of some sort, and was just trying to placate him.

Harry did not quite know whether to laugh or cry. All this time he had worried about the Weasleys hating him for putting their family in danger, for being the reason that Percy pulled away from them a couple of years ago, for being the cause of Bill's attack by Fenrir Greyback, for Fred dying, and now it was coming true! And Arthur Weasley is looking at him like he'd never laid eyes on him before. Or perhaps, wishing he'd never laid eyes on him before.

Harry shook his head, trying to snap out of the direction of these thoughts. This could not be Arthur Weasley. This could not be the same man who headed the family that stuck by him through the best and the worst, who came to him, after losing one of his own children, and hugged him and thanked him, and told him that he did great and that he was proud of him. Harry looked for his wand. No, this could not be Arthur Weasley.

"You're not Mr. Weasley," he tried to spring forward, but was held back by the spells that were still binding him to his bed.

Mr. Weasley stepped back in shock. Dawlish and Zambershan instantly sprung into action. Dawlish hadn't been particularly friendly from the beginning, but Harry was surprised to see that Zambershan had a stony expression on his face as well.

Harry instantly pulled back. There might have been a time when he would have struggled and maybe even throw a fit, but years of dodging Death Eaters and the Final Battle taught him a few things about survival and patience.

He took a deep breath.

"Look, I don't know what's going on. One minute I was at the Burrow with Ron, cleaning his room, and the next minute I'm tied to this bed at St.Mungo's. I practically grew up with the Weasleys," he motions to Arthur, "but he doesn't seem to know me. You lot are acting like Voldemort is not dead," he ignores their grimaces, "and seem to think I'm acting on behalf of him. I don't know what I can do to prove to you that I am who I say I am."

Dawlish and Zambershan looked at each other. Dawlish nodded at a silent question that Zambershan seemed to ask him, before turning back to Harry.

"We're going to have the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Moody, come into talk to you. What you're saying does not make sense, to put it simply."

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. Harry was unfortunately reminded of Dolores Umbridge, before he shut the thought out of his mind. No matter what Mr. Weasley seemed to be doing, comparing him to Umbridge would not be becoming.

Dawlish turned to Mr. Weasley.

"I think that, perhaps, it might be prudent to also inform Professor Dumbledore. I would think that if anyone could help us, it would be him."

Dawlish stiffened at the implication that the Ministry would not be enough to solve the problem at hand, but could not seem to think of any reason to not ask for Dumblefore.

But, Harry did not care. Did they just talk about Dumbledore? Could it be that they were talking about Aberforth? It had to be. Right?

"Is Aberforth Dumbledore a professor now?" he asked tentatively, in the best way he knew how not to alarm everyone in front of him.

"Aberforth?!" Totti, the Medi-Witch snorted, "That old goat doesn't know how to spell his own name!"

Dawlish looked at him as if he just wanted to see through Harry.

"Of course not. We are referring to the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

Harry did not think he could breathe. How could Dumbledore be alive? He could see no portraits around through which Dumbledore could speak to them, so they must be talking about an actual living, corporeal Dumbledore. For the first time since he came to wherever he was, he became unimaginably frustrated for not knowing anything. He did not think it would be appropriate to voice his frustration or his confusion; these people already thought that he was a Death Eater—if he said Dumbledore was dead, they'll take it as if he just concocted the plan to kill the Headmaster.

'Stay calm, Harry,' he tried to convince himself, 'Just stay calm. Besides, this has to be a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream.'

'What if killing Voldemort was a dream?' a horrible thought rose in Harry, 'What if that was all something that Voldemort created in his head like he did with Sirius and passed it on to Harry so that Harry could be confused? What if this was reality?'

Could he help it that a tiny part of him, the part of him that wanted Remus and Tonks and Fred to be alive, wanted this to be real as well?

"No," he whispered to himself, "No, this is not real. It is just a dream. Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore is dead."

Totti looked at him suspiciously and Harry threw back his head miserably. How in the world was he going to get out of this? How was he going to find out if everyone was, in fact, okay?

He looked at Mr. Weasley, who looked to be slightly comforted by the fact that Dumbledore would soon be here, but still looked scared at the notion that Voldemort was targeting his family through this stranger—Harry. One of the most difficult things for Harry during the war had been to see his parents, Sirius and Remus. All his life, he'd wanted a glimpse of them, to talk to them. He wanted some sort of a connection with them so badly that a part of him, just the tiniest of fractions, wanted to not learn the Patronus spell so that he could hear his mum and dad's voices again. It was that or seeing his parents after Cedric, when the shock of the Hufflepuff's death, the fear of Voldemort's return, and the unexpectedness of seeing his parents as well as the brevity of the encounter had disallowed him to truly take in the significance of that situation. It wasn't until he was on his way to face Voldemort for the final time that he saw them to his full appreciation—his mother's smile, his father's pride, Sirius' encouragement, and Remus' understanding. It was then that he didn't mind death so much. If nothing else, at least he would finally get to know the parents he was cheated out of knowing. He could get to know Sirius without the dark look of gloom that was ever pervasive in his eyes, and he could see Remus without the tattered look of being outcasted in the very society he was forced to live in. But, he didn't die, did he? The love of his parents, his friends, and Voldemort's inability to understand something so sacred had saved him again. After it had all been over and done with, Harry wished that his brief conversation with his parents hadn't been about his fear of death. He wished he could have asked them about themselves.

"Until the very end," his father had said to him. He said he would stay with him until the very end. But the end never came.

So, Harry had to live on. At least now he knew with all certainty that when death does come for him, there will be loving people on the other side, waiting for him. Of course, the grief not being able to be with them, get to know them will stay with him, but he'd had the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley was a mother to him, Mr. Weasley, a father, and all the Weasley brothers his brothers, and Ginny, she would be his future wife. Now, he was losing them too. If ever there were to be a true nightmare in Harry's life, it would not be the resurgence of Lord Voldemort, but the loss of the Weasley family. He truly was alone now—even if it was just a dream.

He looked straight at Mr. Weasley, who looked back at him now with a mixture of fear, discomfort, and even pity.

Harry suddenly had an idea.

"If you are Mr. Weasley as you claim to be, what is your deepest secret ambition?"

Mr. Weasley looked at Dawlish, confused.

"What would that have anything to do with anything?" Dawlish demanded on behalf of Mr. Weasley.

Harry ignored him. He continued to speak to Mr. Weasley.

"Come on. If you really are him, you would obviously know this."

"My boy," Dawlish spoke again, agitated, "You are in absolutely no position to be asking any questions of us."

Harry pressed on looking at Mr. Weasley.

'Come on, Mr. Weasley, just answer me. Show me something at all," he internally willed to his surrogate father.

Mr. Weasley looked back at him, as if contemplating something.

"To find out how airplanes stay up," he finally muttered.

Harry was stuck between a feeling of elation and dread.

It really was Mr. Weasley, so that was great! But, if it was Mr. Weasley, why was he pretending not to know Harry?

"Hello Arthur, Devon, Totti, how are you?" a new voice asked Mr. Weasley, Dawlish, and the Medi-Witch.

Harry did not have to turn back to see the face of the man who had spoken.

Albus Dumbledore has arrived.

Author's note: I hope there aren't silly mistakes here, but if there are, I'm sorry! I'm so bad at catching them  Please review! Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

It might have been an understatement to note that Harry was in shock. Sure, the people in the room with him had been talking about summoning Dumbledore, but Harry was certain that they'd just gone bonkers. After all, Harry knew the truth: Professor Dumbledore was dead. He'd seen Dumbledore hit by the Avada Kedavra curse that Snape sent at him; seen him fall to the ground as the life left his body, heard Fawkes' lament over the Headmaster's death. But, there he was--in front of Harry stood, in all his glory, Albus Dumbledore. Of course, this Dumbledore looked different from the one Harry knew. The Dumbledore before him had his trademark long white hair, the wise face and all that, but there were a lot of small differences. For example, this Dumbledore did not have moon-shaped spectacles, but instead wore small rectangular lenses that almost seemed to melt into his face. There seemed to be a long scar on the left side of his face that hadn't been on the Dumbledore he knew. Most interestingly, however, there was no charred hand that had plagued Dumbledore in the final year of his life. Yes, certainly, the man before him was not the Dumbledore he knew.

"Headmaster," Dawlish began, shooting a quick glance at Harry, "I believe it to be best if we could step outside for a moment so as to fill you in on…..everything."

Dumbledore calmly smiled.

"Thank you for your concern about bringing me up to speed Devon. I'm afraid I really do not know anything of the situation here. However, considering that our subject of interest is in this very room, I was thinking that it might be better if we all just stayed in here to sort out any confusion or misunderstanding."

He then turned his attention to Harry. "Hello, Mr. Potter, I believe it is. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry here in Britain."

It was a surreal moment of Harry. Dumbledore had been his mentor, and he didn't recognize Harry? Besides, isn't he supposed to be dead? Can the Polyjuice Potion be used even after someone's death?

'For Merlin's sake, Harry,' he heard Hermione's exasperated voice in his mind, berating him for not remembering something that she, undoubtedly, told him a hundred times, 'you _have _to be alive for the potion to work.'

Of course you did—that's why Mad-Eye Moody had been kept alive in Barty Crouch Jr.'s trunk in Harry's fourth year. So, it couldn't be Poly Juice. Could it be some sort of Metamorphosis spell? Or could it be this person—(people?)—pretending to be Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley were Metamorphmagus like Tonks had been?

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore had come closer to him now, and Harry could see that there was a twinkle in his eye that was so representative of the late Headmaster "are you alright?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, still in shock.

"He says that he was with Arthur Weasley and his family at their home before he ended up at the Macara woods. Had no idea how he got there apparently!" Dawlish blurted out, with a sneer on his face, "And he says that You-Know-Who is dead! He cannot be trusted, Dumbledore."

"There, there, Devon, we must not jump to such quick conclusions," Dumbledore addressed Dawlish, "If we cannot at least give each other the benefit of doubt, then Voldemort has already won this battle."

The members of the room, excepting Harry and Dumbledore, winced at the Dark Wizard's name.

Dumbledore searched Harry's face. Despite the Headmaster's words, Harry did not assume for a moment that Dumbledore trusted him implicitly. It merely meant that he would be giving Harry a chance to prove himself of their trust.

"Mr. Potter, I must ask you to tell the truth and nothing but the truth," Dumbledore began, "Times are, indeed, dark and trust is a valuable asset."

Once again, Harry was reminded that, in spite of the fact that he has been labeled as "The Chosen One" and as "The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named", he was just a part of the battle that included many people. He did not know everything. In this case, Harry sorely missed Ron and Hermione, who helped him think about what to do when stuck in a situation with seemingly no way out. In the end, however, Harry decided that there was no way out except the truth.

He looked at Dumbledore—or at least, the man who stood before him as Dumbledore.

"I was at the Weasleys, helping Ron Weasley clean his room. We had just started and literally the next thing I know, I am awaking up at what I am told is St. Mungo's."

Dumbledore seemed to decide not to press on any one issue because he moved on to his next question, even though he can't possibly have been satisfied with the first answer.

"And what of Voldemort? I am told that you say that he is dead," Dumbledore looked at him closely, "You also say his name, which I must say, I find curious. You are right in using his name, of course. It is but a name, after all. I'm afraid, though, that even many grown wizards do not speak his name. Yet, you do."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, desperate to make him understand.

"Voldemort _is _dead. I say his name because that is his name. You were the one that told me that we ought to say his name!"

Dumbledore looked at him with surprise and curiosity clear in his eyes.

"I told you, you say? Well, that is a matter for later. If, as you say, Voldemort is dead, then I have to ask you how he died."

Harry's mind froze for a moment. Was this a test? Were Death Eaters trying to find out secrets from him? Is there a way for them to bring terror back to society by using this information? Dumbledore already knew this. He told Harry to not tell anyone. So, why would he ask Harry to explain everything in front of three complete strangers when he didn't want the information be told to even other members of the Order?

"He died through the Avada Kedavra spell," Harry avoided the question directly.

"That simply?" Dumbledore did not seem to believe him.

"Yes," Harry replied.

Dumbledore looked into Harry eyes.

"I'm going to have to ask that you be completely honest and forthcoming with your information here, Mr. Potter. Is there nothing else behind this death of Voldemort?"

"If there was any information, I really cannot share it, Professor," Harry responded, "Especially because it was you who told me not to tell anyone about anything. So this could either by some weird dream where no one seems to know anything that happened in the last seven years or you are all remaining, secret Death Eaters that plotted this plan to get some information. I can't take that risk. If you really are Professor Dumbledore, I think you would agree."

Dumbledore seemed as though he wanted to pursue this issue further, but changed his mind and turned toward Dawlish.

"Where are Mr. Potter's artifacts that were found with him? If I could have permission from Mr. Potter," Dumbledore looked back at Harry, "I should like to examine them."

Dawlish hesitated.

"I think it would be better if we waited for Auror Moody before we bring them out."

"Well, then, it's time to bring them out now, isn't it?" The gruff voice of Auror Alastor Moody joined the conversation.

"Alastor, it's good to see you again," Dumbledore greeted his friend and fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix, "How is that leg?"

"Bloody thing might as well have been cleanly severed off, the useless piece of flesh," Moody replied in his cheeriest of voices, and even that was not particularly cheery.

He turned his attention to Harry.

"You!" he barked, "Are you a Death Eater?"

Harry could not help but feel that even if he were a Death Eater, it's not very likely that he would have easily responded and affirmed that he was, in fact, one of Voldemort's men just because Moody asked him the question. This person who stood before him as Moody was nothing like the Mad-Eye Moody that he came to know in the last couple of years—especially because this Moody had no "Mad-Eye" to go with it. He seemed to have to perfectly functioning, normal eyes. He did have a cane, though, something he used to carry in the normal world that Harry was used to.

"No!" Harry responded a little bit more emphatically than he did when asked a similar question by Dumbledore. He was sick of answering this question.

"Alastor," Dumbledore intervened before the conversation could go further, "I think that our best decision now would be to observe any and all things Mr. Potter had with him when Dedalus and Diddas found him in the woods."

"Yes, yes," he waved over Zambershan, who had come back in with Moody, "Bring the boy's things."

Moody's head swiveled back to look at Harry.

"And you call yourself Harry Potter, is it?" he banged his cane against the metal part of Harry's hospital bed, "What's James Potter to you?"

"James Potter is my dad!!!!!!" Harry could not control his emotions. "If you all are who you say you are, and you really are here for some ridiculous reason, then you should already know this!"

Harry's anger quickly faded into desperation.

"Mr. Weasley," he pleaded to the red-headed man, "You know all of this. What's going on?"

"I think, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore spoke, attempting to retain calm, "that we are all confused about what's going on. Let's take a look at what we have and what we know before we proceed with any more information."

He motioned to Zambershan, who was holding a huge box in his hand. The box, though huge in size, only held two items in it. One of them was Harry's wand and the other was a smaller, seemingly weightless box that Ron had thrown at Harry the last time Harry was in a world that he understood.

"That's the box that Ron threw at me!" Harry exclaimed.

"My son, Ron?" Mr. Weasley asked disbelievingly, "He's been in Egypt for the past week. There's no way….."

Moody picked up the box carelessly.

"Alohomora!" he muttered.

The box did not open, but it shook violently.

Dumbledore stepped in to take the box from Moody.

"Perhaps we should tread with caution, Alastor. After all, we do not know what lies in that box."

Dumbledore examined it carefully, for what seemed like hours.

"We cannot open this box," he finally declared to murmurs of protests.

"Just break it, Albus!" Moody said, in his usual rumble.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It will not work. But, Mr. Potter here may be able to open it."

Harry looked at him.

"I've never seen that box before."

"Yes, that might be the case," Dumbledore replied, "But, the box came with you. Whatever magical signatures you have are applicable to the magic that's in this box. So, if anyone is going to be able to open it, it's going to be you."

Harry took the box from Dumbledore's outstretched hand. Should he open the box? What if it's going to give these people some sort of an advantage and they use it against him and for Death Eaters?

"And if I don't want to?" he challenged in the same way as before.

"That's your prerogative, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore responded serenely, "But, I do believe that there is a lot of information that we can gather from opening that box. I assure you that we mean you no harm."

Despite all his doubts, Harry trusted his words. So, he went to lift the lid of the box, not expecting anything to happen. But, the box did open. Inside the small box was the Deluminator that Dumbledore had bequeathed to Ron.

"That's a Deluminator!" the Medi-Witch Totti spoke up.

"Yes, it is," Moody fixed his gaze back on Harry, "And how would a young boy like you get your hands on one of the rarest magical items?"

"Why ask me questions if you're not going to believe any of my answers," Harry retorted.

"Boy, I will not be spoken to in this manner," Moody replied in a fashion very similar to Vernon Dursley.

What nobody noticed during this exchange, however, was the brightness in Dumbledore's eyes as he examined the Deluminator.

"Mr. Potter, do you know this works?" he asked Harry, ignoring all mumbles in the background.

"I know what it does, to an extent. I know it can put out lights, and," Harry hesitated, "transport people to places."

"Ah, yes, yes, it can," Dumbledore smiled, awe in his eyes.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Moody growled again.

"Everything, I believe," Dumbledore responded, still looking at Harry, "I think—and this is a far shot, but perhaps does more to explain this situation that anything else we have considered so far—that Mr. Potter is from an alternate dimension."

Author's note: The chapters are still a little short, I know, but they will get longer. I hope you guys are enjoying this. Please review! Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

Totti let out a nervous shrill that Harry supposed was laughter.

"An alternate dimension," he repeated slowly, "What the he--, er, what does that even mean?"

Harry did not think that his mind stopped spinning since the moment he woke up at this place.

Dumbledore nodded, almost in a gleeful manner that Harry had never seen his Dumbledore do.

"An alternate dimension," Dumbledore repeated, and Harry could see the Headmaster's mind going over theory and implications, "Many years ago, I did a lot of research on alternate dimensions. In ancient times, the idea that alternate dimensions existed was widespread and common and there were even supposed to be inter-dimensional travelers. But, like many things, as time moved forward, people moved away from such ideas and alternate dimensions became mere bedtime stories and folklore."

"Inter-dimensional traveling?" Harry had taken to repetition.

"There was never any question about the fact that there were at least two dimensions: that of the living and of the dead. When I started my research, I did so to find out more about the space that is occupied by the dead in terms of where it is and how we travel between the worlds. In that process, my fellow researchers and I came across evidence that there were more than just the two original dimensions that we had known about. In fact, our investigation showed us that there were perhaps innumerable dimensions."

"Dumbledore, you've lost your mind!" Moody could not hold it in any longer.

Dumbledore peered at him through his spectacles. "Is this really any crazier than muggles who believe in magic, Alastor?"

"It's not the same thing!" Moody protested.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore conceded, "But, that does not make it any less real."

"How does it all work then?" Harry asked, allowing himself to believe in this for a moment.

"I'm afraid that the human race is somewhat conceited, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore addressed Harry, "Just as we tend to think that we are the only planet to hold species, we cannot see a world beyond our own existence. However, all worlds that are inhabited by people are the same worlds, with the same lives, with each world living to its own possibility."

Dumbledore paused, feeling Harry's confusion.

"What I mean to say is that in the beginning, whenever that may have been, there just but the two dimensions I mentioned earlier. However, the freewill of the people and external forces have broken or rather, spread the souls of people. Thus, the decisions they make has caused there to be alternate universes where people are guided by the various choices that they have made. Perhaps it would be easier to think this way: essentially, every one person has just one soul. But, in each dimension, a person has a part of that soul."

Harry wished he could control his emotions better because he was gaping at Dumbledore. It sounded to him like Dumbledore was saying that their souls were all split, like Voldemort did when he created the Horcruxes.

"That sounds like dark magic, Professor," Harry pressed, "a lot like hor…a lot like dark magic."

Dumbledore shot him an odd look.

'That was really stupid,' Harry scolded himself, 'REALLY stupid."

"While forcibly splitting your soul is, indeed, dark magic, the soul as it is in persons in different universes is not. There are some things that are so encompassing, Mr. Potter, that they can exist in any place, in any range. Love, for example, is that way. The soul in this case isn't exactly split as much as it is able to carry itself anywhere. It basically means that the person's essence is the same, but not much more. For instance, any of your counterparts in other worlds will have the same soul as you, but they could be very different people. After all, it is our choices that make us who we are."

Harry could not even wrap his head around whatever it was that Dumbledore was saying.

"So why do you think that I traveled through dimensions? I mean, there isn't even a way for us to travel more than a few hours back in time, but you're telling me that I've traveled through universes?" Harry countered.

"Ah, good question," Dumbledore smiled, "That, Mr.Potter, is the magic of the Deluminator."

"That's never been proven," Arthur Weasley gasped, speaking after a long bout of silence.

"You are very right, Arthur," Dumbledore responded, "There are many things that have never been proven, but there's no doubt that they exist."

Harry did not think that made particular sense, but kept silent.

"Deluminators, as we know, are very rare. But, even in those rare items, some Deluminators are even rarer. This particular one," he showed the instrument in his hand, "is one of those exceptionally rare items. You can probably count on your hands the number of people that have one of these."

He paused and scrutinized Harry, but proceeded without asking any questions.

"Deluminators have many qualities, but three particularly important ones. The first is the most obvious: it can put out lights. The other two are slightly more complicated, but I shall give you the short version of the explanation. The Deluminator can act as a communication device of sorts. The person with the Deluminator cannot send messages, but he can receive them. It can converge names and feelings with people that are associated with its magic, and send messages to that person."

Harry nodded subconsciously. Obviously this was how Ron heard Hermione's words about the wand that had been destroyed at Godric's Hollow.

"The third thing that a Deluminator can do is perhaps the least understood. It is an ancient magic that guides a person to go to where they need or want to be the most. It can act almost like a portkey of sorts."

"But, Professor," Harry asked, "I didn't want to be here. And I don't see how I would need to be here."

Dumbledore squinted. "Our subconscious knows more than what we consciously know, Mr. Potter. Maybe there is something here for us all to learn from and discover as you take the remainder of this journey."

"So what?" Harry responded, incredulously, "Ron throws a box at me, and I just traveled to another dimension?"

"It might be hard to believe, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore nodded, "But, that is what I believe happened. The Deluminator must have been clicked when your friend threw it at you."

Harry looked around the room. Zambershan stood in a corner, wide-eyed, as was Mr. Weasley. Totti looked suspicious, much like Dawlish, who had a look of extreme dislike on his face. Moody looked something like he half wanted to attack Harry and half wanted to question him till his limbs fell off. Only Dumbledore seemed to think that this was an everyday occurrence. The overt excitement he had shown just a half hour ago was now a subdued curiosity.

"Okay," Harry could not believe he was entertaining this idea, "So let's assume that I have traveled through dimensions. How do I get back?"

Dumbledore sobered up immediately. "I'm afraid that I do not yet know the answer to that question. I would say that we could try clicking the Deluminator, but we cannot say for certain that it would take you back to your world. Should you wish to try that, we cannot stop you. Let me be clear that I will do everything in my power to safely send you back to your world, if you give me the time. However, I should like to make a request if you choose to leave right now: as you may have gathered, we are still fighting Lord Voldemort. Since you say that in your world, he is dead, we would be fully appreciative if you could give us the information that finally rid the world of Voldemort."

Harry suddenly became squeamish. He was just getting used to the idea that Voldemort was dead, and there was something incredibly uncomfortable about even just being in a world where the Dark Wizard still existed.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Harry asked, "Even if I know some of you to be good in my world, how do I know that you didn't make a different choice in this world?"

"We have nothing to offer you but our word that we are committed to the Light and we have no ulterior motives other than to end Voldemort's reign of terror."

The truth was that Harry believed him. As suspicious as the whole thing sounded, he trusted what Dumbledore was saying. He looked at his old Headmaster. His death had been one of the most difficult to bear, not just because he was the guiding force behind Harry, but because there was so much Harry had never known about him. Dumbledore had always been on his side, under all circumstances. It was not until after Dumbledore's death that Harry appreciated what Dumbledore truly meant. He had always known that Dumbledore meant security, but after Dumbledore died, he did not know the feeling of loss would hit him so directly and so hard at that. To say the truth, it was probably because of Dumbledore that he'd been listening to all that was being said without panicking too much. As confusing and seemingly ridiculous as all this was, at least he wasn't pulling out his hair.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts again, "What say you?"

"I'm going to wait and try to go back home later," Harry said, "But, I don't know what information I can give you. I don't know anything about any of you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have every right to retain your privacy and I have no doubt that you will tell us in due time."

"So, what are we supposed to do with the boy, now?" Dawlish shot him a look that conveyed that he did not like where this was going.

Dumbledore remembered something again at this point, because his eyes widened even more than they did when he figured out what was happening with the Deluminator.

"Mr. Potter, I understand that this seems to be a sensitive subject," Dumbledore began with more hesitation than Harry had ever seen from him, "But, what now is your relationship with James Potter?"

"Oh my God," Harry whispered, unable to breathe, "Is it possible?"

He looked up to find expectant faces staring back at him.

"James Potter is my father. He's my dad."

"Potter doesn't have a kid named Harry!" Zambershan piped, "He definitely does not have a Harry."

"He does look a lot like James, though," Mr. Weasley observed him, "Look at the hair!"

"And Lily's eyes," even Moody contributed to the conversation.

Dumbledore looked at him with a mixture of pity, curiosity, and excitement.

"I think it's best if we just let this young man rest a little. I can't imagine inter-dimensional traveling left you feeling energetic."

He turned to Totti. "It's fine that you take off his binds to the bed, Totti. Leave him free to move around a little."

Harry cleared his throat.

"Professor, where are my, um, parents?"

"They're at Godric's Hollow, Harry. We'll figure it out soon," Dumbledore responded.

Harry blinked. His throat was more dried than he could ever remember it being.

"I mean, could I see them?"

"I'm sure you will, Harry," Dumbledore seemed to have switched to calling him by his first name.

"When?" Harry persisted.

"Soon. Now, get some rest." Dumbledore waved and Harry fell straight asleep.

Harry woke up later and licked his parched lips. He desperately needed water and was pleased to find a pitcher next to his bed and even more pleased to realize that he was unbound from the bed. He sat up and looked around again. The room didn't seem to be as white as it had been before, nor was it as silent. He could hear muffled sounds of other patients and hospital personnel outside, and if not that, he could certainly hear Zambershan's snores as he slept in what looked like a very comfortable chair next to Harry's bed. As Harry drank his water, the contents of the conversation from earlier that day jolted him out of any remaining sleepiness. He'd been surprised that he'd been able to sleep at all, and suspected that Dumbledore had something to do with it. Well, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. His parents were alive. His parents were alive, and Harry didn't know what to do with that.

"Well, good afternoon, Mr. Potter," a Medi-Witch walked into his room with a smile on her face, "Sorry, it took us so long to get in here. Our caller just alerted us that you were awake! Anyways, my name is Narta Simechink." She grinned at him.

"Oh calm down, Narta," Totti had walked into the room. She looked at Zambershan and smacked him over the head.

"Ow!" Zambershan woke up, "What did you do that for?"

"The whole point of you remaining in this room was to keep an eye on the boy!" Totti looked scandalized, "And you were sleeping! And snoring like a rhinoceros too!"

"I just woke up," Harry said.

"Never you mind, boy," Totti snapped at him and handed him a glass of what looked to be worse than the Polyjuice potion he drank in his second year with Goyle's hair in it.

Harry peered inside.

"It's okay. Just close your nose and gobble it up. It'll go right down!" encouraged Narta.

Harry did as he was told, but felt that to say 'it'll go right down' was somewhat of an exaggeration. He had to hold himself to stay steady and not gag on his own vomit that was sure to come up.

"Arthur Weasley will be by soon to pick you up," Totti seemed to enjoy his discomfort.

"Why?" Harry asked, "Where will I be going?"

"To his home, of course! Got no where else to go, do you?"

Harry wanted to ask why he couldn't go to his parents. Didn't they want him there? Did they even know yet? What if this was the plan? To keep him from his parents.

But, he didn't say anything. It was partially because he didn't really think that this was all a conspiracy and partially because he kind of wanted to go to the Burrow. He needed to see Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys.

At that very moment, a knock came at his door, and Mr. Weasley entered, looking much more relaxed and confident than the last time Harry had seen him.

"Hello, Harry," he said warmly, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, glad that his father figure was back to normal, "Thank you."

"Well, I suppose you should gather your things—just the wand, I suppose, since Dumbledore took the Deluminator for further study. Then we'll be off."

Harry resisted the urge to jump off the bed and run to the door due to his excitement. He was glad to be able to get out of there.

"Thank you," he nodded politely to Totti and Narta, and then looked over to Zambershan, "Good to meet you."

Zambershan came and shook his hand heartily.

"I knew you weren't a death eater, m'boy! I'll see you!"

Harry just smiled.

"We should get going. My wife's run around crazy to make what I'm sure is a great meal, so let's get you there! She's very excited to meet you, you see. She's even made you this great treacle tart that only she knows how to make…." Mr. Weasley rambled on.

"The apple treacle tart. I love it!" Harry responded, knowingly.

"Oh right, of course, you know her. I mean, not her, but some her. And the treacle tart, which is great, yeah, you would know. Because you're friends with Ron, yeah, Ron," Mr. Weasley went on awkwardly.

They both became silent.

"I know this is strange, Mr. Weasley," Harry said quietly.

Mr. Weasley looked at him.

"It is the strangeness in our lives that makes it oh so very fun, Harry."

Even in this very extreme situation, a part of Harry could not help but agree.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "Ever travel by floo, Harry?"

Unfortunately, he had. "Yes."

"Well then," Mr. Weasley handed him some floo powder and stepped toward the Hospital's Floo network, "get in and clearly say, 'The Burrow.'"

Harry took the powder and reluctantly stepped in to the fireplace.

"See you soon, Harry!" Mr. Weasley waved.

Harry waved back and yelled, "The Burrow!"

Before he knew it, Harry was spinning and ended up another fireplace, where he looked up to find the laughing face of one Mr. Fred Weasley.

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! Please review! Also, Happy Birthday to HARRY! And Happy Birthday to ME!


	6. Chapter 6

When Harry would look back at this whole experience, he'd notice that it was seeing Fred alive that really cemented in him that what was happening was actually happening.

Harry stared at Fred, with utter shock on his face. Dumbledore had been dead for over a year, but Fred just died a couple of months ago. His death was so new that Harry still expected him to turn up, when it was least expected, like nothing had changed. There was a part of Harry that had been hoping that Fred was just playing a prank—like he and George came up with some pill that would allow you to pretend to be dead. Fred would come back and say that he just needed to test it out and that the pill put him out for a lot longer than they anticipated. And all would be well. Harry knew this was downright impossible and stupid and childish, but Fred had been like a brother. Is it so wrong to hope?

"Well, come on, mate. You alright?" George Weasley appeared behind his twin.

Harry looked from Fred to George and back. It had been two months since he'd seen a smile on George's face. It wasn't like the remaining twin never smiled, but it wasn't genuine. Right after Fred's death, George had been okay. He fought in the battle, helped with whatever was needed, but as soon as he came home, everything seemed to just stop for him. It seemed to Harry that George was as lost to them as Fred was.

"Hello," Fred waved his hand in front of Harry's face, "Are you okay?"

"Boys, give him some room to come in now!" Molly Weasley entered the room.

Harry turned to the matriarch of the family.

"Hi dear!" she smiled at him, "Welcome to our home. You best come out of that fireplace or Arthur might land straight on you!"

Harry stepped out.

"Well, I'm going to go get some water for you. I'd get snacks, but dinner will be ready soon, so I think it's best if you just waited."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply. Harry had not realized that he hadn't spoken a word since he arrived. But, before he could say anything, there was a thump behind him as Mr. Weasley came home.

"We have got to clear out this fireplace, Molly," he muttered, dusting the soot off his shirt.

"Well, yes we should, dear. If you hadn't been attached to ripping apart that car of yours," Mrs. Weasley looked at her husband pointedly, "maybe we would already done so."

Mr. Weasley looked appropriately abashed. "I should go change the shirt. It doesn't look like everything is coming off."

He turned towards Harry, gave him a smile, and walked away to change.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry with a kind expression on her face. "You should get some rest, dear. Supper will be ready soon," she turned to Fred and George, and said sternly, "Behave yourselves."

Fred and George nodded, with similar innocent looks on their faces. Their mother, not fooled by their expressions, glared at them and returned to her kitchen. The twins looked at Harry, grinning ear to ear.

"Hullo!" Fred jumped right next to where Harry was standing, still silent, "Let's chat."

George motioned them to follow him into the family room, which was exactly the same as it had been in the world from which Harry came.

"So," George began, "I'm Fred."

"And I'm George," Fred finished.

Harry resisted the urge to leap up from the chair he was sitting in to hug them. He didn't think they would particularly take to some random boy hugging them. His own Fred and George wouldn't be entirely pleased with that. It had been so long since he'd seen the familiar joke about their identities that for the first time in a long time, Harry felt that things were back to normal.

"Hi," Harry said his first words, "Nice to meet you."

"We hear that you've come from another dimension," George sat next to Harry.

"We'd like to propose a plan to you. You tell us how you traveled through dimensions and we'll give you a cut of the profit from when we sell the plan to customers so they can travel universes too," Fred said with glee, as if he couldn't possibly imagine anyone turning down the offer.

"It's not something you can just take," Harry explained, "I barely understand it, really."

Fred and George exchanged a disappointed look.

"Well, that's okay, now, isn't it George?" Fred brightened, "Give him some candy that we bought yesterday. A little sweet might be good for our dimension traveler."

"Right you are, Fred," George responded with a smirk, as he got up to fetch a piece of candy, "Do you know us in that other dimension of yours, Harry?"

He handed two large toffee bars to Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I do," he put the bars back in George's hand, "Which is exactly why I cannot take these."

"I knew it!" Fred snapped his fingers, "See, George, Harry here just confirmed what we knew all along: we are amazing."

"Tell us," George said eagerly, "Do we pull a lot of pranks? Are we the masters of jokes at Hogwarts? Do I have a pretty little girl on my arm…..?"

"Of course you do, George," Fred intervened, "With that handsome face of yours, who could resist, eh? But, maybe that personality you've got is getting in the way…"

George made a face at Fred. "He seems to think he's funny," he told Harry.

Harry smiled. "You guys were great. You're notorious for your pranks and jokes. You had a Joke shop together."

Fred and George high-fived each other like they had just won the Quidditch World Cup.

"Wait till Ron hears about this! He'll be so jealous. And Percy," Fred cackled, "he'll go crazy."

Ron. In the excitement of seeing Fred alive, Harry had forgotten about Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He had thought he'd see all three of them here, but he supposed that it was not possible because it's more likely that Hermione wouldn't be here at the Weasley residence. He'll have to see her later. But, where were Ron and Ginny?

"Uh, is Ron around?" he asked about his best friend first. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion by asking about Ginny—he knew how protective the Weasley brothers were about their only sister.

Fred and George shook their head.

"We're the only two home right now," George explained, "Ron is with our brother Bill in Egypt right now, Charlie is in Romania playing with dragons, Percy is a git—you don't want to meet him, and our sister Ginny is in France for the summer. She's on a trip with the Gryffindor Quidditch team for summer practice."

The mixture of emotions that were surging through Harry were inexplicable. On the one hand, it was nice to see how normal everyone's life seemed to be. On the other hand, he was extremely disappointed that Ron and Ginny were not around. Still, he was happy that the twins spoke about Percy in such a cavalier fashion, which meant that, even if they thought he was snooty, at least Percy was still around in their lives. Harry had been terrified that all the Weasleys would not be alive in this world since Voldemort was still around, but it seemed that they were leading very similar lives to his own world before the Final Battle sent things into disarray.

"But, I think dad fire-called Ron," Fred looked at Harry curiously, "He seemed to think that you would be more comfortable with ickle-ronniekins around."

Harry smiled yet again, but did not respond. He didn't have to say anything because right then, Mrs. Weasley walked back into the room to announce that dinner was ready.

George seemed to sense his disappointment, though, because he fell back to be in step with Harry.

"I'm sure Ron will come soon," he assured Harry.

"Yeah," Fred looked back, "The little twit is just bending over backwards to be able to apparate now that he has his license."

Harry laughed. It was good to know that some things never changed, even if you were across dimensions.

Harry had expected the lunch to be some what of an awkward experience, but he didn't know quite how much it would be. The twins, though eager, hadn't questioned him too much about his world. Perhaps they thought that there would be plenty of time to badger him later or that they could bribe him for information because they hadn't uttered a word about their counterparts in Harry's world. Harry, of course, hadn't offered any information either. He was in no mood to tell them anything about his world, much less the fact that one them was dead. No, some things were better left unsaid—at least for now. But, as things go, it was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that were asking the questions about his world.

"Arthur tells me that you enjoy my treacle tarts, dear," Mrs. Weasley served him some potatoes, "Are you over at our house a lot? I mean, our other house…in your world."

"I love the tarts, Mrs. Weasley. Everything you make is just great," Harry stuffed some food into his mouth, "You're always feeding everyone something or the other."

Mr. Weasley looked over at his wife fondly. "Isn't that the truth? Hector's been telling me that I've put on some weight."

"He needs to look at himself first," Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes, but shot a sharp look at George, "Don't you dare try any of your ridiculous inventions right now!"

George put up his hands, as though he was surrendering, but Harry saw Fred take the small pouch of bluish powder and put into his food. He caught Harry's eye and winked.

"That's something that doesn't change, either," Harry attempted to infuse some humor with reference to Mrs. Weasley's exasperations with Fred and George's antics.

"Of course not!" Mrs. Weasley shook her head, but no one could have missed the affection in her tone.

The conversation then suddenly came to a stop, as if no one knew what to say. It wasn't like they knew each other well enough to just talk about their day or their problems. These Weasleys knew nothing about Harry, and while they were caring people, they weren't as invested in his wellbeing as his own Weasleys were. Fred and George were too caught up in whatever experiment they were doing to pay attention to anything else—every once in a while Fred would whisper something to George that the latter would then note down in a small note pad they kept hidden from their mother. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley engaged in random small talk that ranged from their children's future to Mr. Weasley's problems at work, but kept looking over at Harry with an expectant expression on their faces to see if he would offer them some solution that he carried over from his world.

"So, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley turned her full attention to Harry again, as the Weasley parents realized that they weren't going to get any information out of him by indirectly asking him anything, "Do your parents not mind that you're over at our house so much? I mean, I'm sure we love having you over, but….."

"Blimey, dad, what's going on?" they heard a loud pop that thankfully interrupted Mrs. Weasley's question, "I thought Fred and George might have burned down the house or something the way you ordered me to get back ho……….."

Ron's voice trailed off as he looked at Harry. He straightened and immediately took a more refined tone. The tips of his ears had turned red as they tended to when he was embarrassed and Harry had to suppress a smile as he noticed that.

"Hello," Ron spoke to Harry, "Sorry, I didn't realize we had a guest over."

"Hi," Harry replied. It was strangely awkward when the realization came that Ron did not know him. After all, Ron was his first and best friend, and he was the one that knew the most about Harry, far more than even Hermione and Ginny, so it was weird to think that this person standing in front of him could not tell Harry Potter apart from Harry Smith.

"I'm Ron," he extended his hand to Harry.

"Harry," Harry shook Ron's hand, "How are you?"

Ron smiled, "Good." He went over to his mum and gave her a kiss on the cheek, patted his dad on the back, and stuck his tongue out at the twins before he pulled a chair and took a seat.

He looked at his mother and mock pouted. "Am I going to get anything to eat, mum?"

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley conjured a plate and served food for her son, while Fred and George looked on, absolutely horrified.

"Are you serious?!" Fred exclaimed.

"Of all the times we begged and pleaded and behaved, have you ever once served us food with a smile on your face and love in your eyes?" George continued.

Ron rolled his eyes, and Mr. Weasley shrugged at Harry. Mrs. Weasley gave the twins one of her patented and extra special glares.

"We understand, mother. We do," Fred and George sighed together.

"Let's go, Gred," George motioned to his brother, with the act of extreme pain in his eyes.

"Yes, Forge. I can take a hint," Fred followed his brother out of the room, but not before shooting his mother a remorseful look.

"So, who are you, exactly?" Ron asked with a stuffed mouth, and any softness Mrs. Weasley had shown him disappeared as he shot him a look that told him exactly how disgusting he was being.

"Uh, yes, Ron," Mr. Weasley sat up and glanced at Harry before turning back to his son, "What we're about to tell you is a matter of the Order."

Harry straightened. So Ron was in the Order of the Phoenix here too.

"Okay," Ron put his spoon down, and looked at Harry and his dad seriously, "What's going on?"

"This, here, is Harry Potter," Mr. Weasley introduced Harry again, "Ron, he's from another dimension."

"What?" Ron didn't seem to understand his father.

"It's a long explanation that maybe Harry can fill you in on later, but basically, he's not from our world. There is more than one dimension in this universe, and he's from one of those other dimensions."

"Right," Ron's eyes were glazed, "So, how come he's here?"

"Ron, that's rude!" Mrs. Weasley rebuked her youngest son.

Ron snapped out of his haze at his mother's voice. "I just meant, like how'd he get here? And our house? I mean, shouldn't the ministry deal with this?" he turned to Harry, "Not that we don't want to have you here, mate."

"It seems that he knows us, Ron," Mr. Weasley went on, "He's a friend of the family, especially you. He was with you before he accidentally came from his world to ours."

"And you believe all of this?!" Ron asked the question that everyone's been wondering.

"Yes," his father replied firmly, "And Dumbledore does too."

Dumbledore trusting Harry seemed to seal the deal for Ron because he turned to Harry immediately with excitement on his face.

"So, how'd you do it? Why didn't I, I mean, the other me, come with you?!"

Before Harry could respond to anything, Ron moved forward, his eyes as big as saucers.

"Shit. I mean, sorry, mum," he shot his mother an apologetic glance before she could scold him again, "are you related to Chris?!"

Harry was confused. "Who's Chris?"

"I think we should save all this for later, when Dumbledore gets here," Mr. Weasley prevented the conversation from going further.

Harry was interested in who Chris was, but even more so about Dumbledore coming to the Burrow.

"Professor Dumbledore's coming? When?" Harry questioned Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley looked at the clock. "Probably any minute now, Harry. Just be patient," he looked at Ron, "Once you're done eating Ron, why don't you show Harry to your room? I'm sure he'd like to relax for a little bit."

With hesitation, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left them in the dining room.

"So," Ron looked at Harry, wringing his hands, "Do you want to go to my room, then?"

"Sure," Harry quickly responded.

Once they got to Ron's room, though, neither one knew what to say to the other.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked suddenly just as he did to Harry when they first met on Hogwarts express years ago.

"Uh, the Chudley Cannons," Harry responded, far different from the confused answer he gave Ron when asked the question the first time.

"Mine too!" Ron's uncomfortable demeanor changed as soon the conversation delved into Quidditch.

"What did you think of Ireland's win at the last World Cup? Dad got us tickets, because you know, he works at the Ministry, and it was fantastic!"

"Yeah, I went to that," Harry said tentatively, gauging Ron's reaction, "I came with you guys. You, me, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of your brothers."

"Uh, right," Ron replied, with an awkward expression back on your face, "That's just bloody weird."

"You're telling me. I didn't even know what was going on. One minute I was with you cleaning your room and the next I was waking up at St.Mungo's."

"You're taking it really well, though, mate," Ron offered, "Like, really well."

"I think I just look like I am. Actually, maybe I am taking it okay. There's a part of me that's surprised at how weirdly okay this all seems, but everything here is so differently…the same." It felt nice for Harry to talk to Ron about this. Even though this Ron was an entirely different person, Harry had yet to separate the two Rons in his mind. This Ron did not know anything about him, but knowing his own Ron, Harry felt confident that he could divulge information to his new, but old friend.

"Yeah," Ron looked at him, "It'll be alright. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order will make sense of it."

"I'm glad the Order exists here," Harry replied, "Are you already a part of it?"

Harry tried to infuse some awe and surprise into his voice as he asked whether Ron was involved in the secret organization. He didn't think it would take very well if being a part of the Order or being so close to the order was normal in his world too, especially considering exactly how close they were.

"Yeah," Ron shrugged, apparently trusting Harry enough to provide him with information, "But, there's not really a choice, is there? Not with You-Know-Who running around doing who knows what." Ron laughed at his own pun, and Harry joined in uncomfortably. It was very unsettling to hear about Voldemort and his antics.

"How much does he control here?" Harry asked with baited breath.

Ron shrugged again, and Harry almost smiled. "It's pretty terrible, really. He's got a huge list of followers and even more under the Imperius curse and he's got spies everywhere," it suddenly seemed to occur to Ron that he ought to second guess Harry's motivations.

Harry shook his head. "I am not a death eater," he said simply. Ron stared at him for another moment, sizing him up, and continued.

"It's really hard to trust anyone," he said apologetically, "I mean, anyone could be a supporter or be forced to do things because everyone's afraid for their families and what not. You-Know-Who has been terrorizing people for almost 25 years, so most people can't even remember a time that they haven't been terrified. Dad reckons even the muggles know a good portion of what's going on—they keep dying too."

Harry's shoulders slumped.

"The problem is that we don't even know who all of You-Know-Who's lackeys are. They wear those masks so we can't exactly tell, and the people who we do know are Death Eaters, we can't always prove that they are to the ministry," Ron went on bitterly, "so they keep getting away with things."

"What's the Ministry doing to stop him?" Harry questioned, trying to determine if the Ministry here is as incompetent as the one in his own world.

"Well, you know, there's a lot of problems with the Ministry," Ron responded, "They're understaffed and overworked, and they can barely trust each other. They have the right idea, but they're also completely inefficient."

Harry couldn't imagine how this world must be if Voldemort had been in power without a break in between. At least his world had a time when they lived without fear for almost 14 years, but this world had no such break. For the first time, Harry could truly understand how his own absolute tragedy benefited millions. Of course, they got to comfortable and that led to no one believing him when Voldemort came back, but they also got to have a few years of fun and innocence in their lives.

"But, things have been pretty quiet this last year," Ron was still talking, "It's been so quiet that there are even some people that think maybe he's left. Mum and Dad say that Dumbledore says that we've got to be even more careful now. As Moody keeps saying, it's the eye of the storm or

whatever."

"Where is he at then?" Harry asked confused.

"Hell if I know mate," Ron leaned back against the wall, "I don't know if anyone knows, save maybe Dumbledore. I'm not allowed to all the Order meetings anyway. I just graduated you know."

Harry gave him a discomfited smile.

There was a knock at the door before either Ron or Harry could say anything. George came in with ridiculous sunglasses on his face.

"Dumbledore's here," he grinned, "I reckon you want to see him."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and the three bounded down the squeaky staircase.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore smiled at him, and turned to Ron, "Mr. Weasley, I take it Egypt went well."

"Yes, Professor," Ron replied, turning red as he so often does.

Dumbledore looked back to Harry. "You look well Harry—much better than you did at the hospital. No doubt, Molly's cooking could make even the dead rise."

Without looking at her, Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley's entire face had probably turned redder than the hair on her head.

"Yes, Professor," Harry echoed Ron.

Dumbledore's expression turned slightly more serious. "I haven't been able to determine anything conclusively about the inter-dimensional traveling aspect of the Deluminator, Harry. I'm sorry. However, we do need to discuss about what to do about you and the James and Lily of this world."

"I knew it," Ron whispered with excitement, "You are a real Potter…."

Harry shot him a quick look before turning his attention back to Dumbledore.

"You have been in this world for almost two days, and they ought to know, particularly since you will not be leaving immediately," Dumbledore peered at him, "Also, we need to know about your world, especially because we might be able to use the information to get rid of this world's Voldemort. I trust that you will give us the information, eventually, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, but did not speak.

"I think it's best if we first met with Lily and James tomorrow, explain everything we know, and then get the background on your life. My other question is, do you mind if we have select members of the Order in the room, not at your initial meeting with the Potters, but when we hear about your world?"

"No," Harry responded, "I think the Weasleys are entitled to the information as well. Anyone you want, really, Professor."

No matter what world he was in, Harry decided right then and there, under any and all circumstances, he could and would trust the Weasleys and Dumbledore. After all, if you couldn't trust someone, is there any point to life?

Dumbledore smiled and the twinkle was back in his eye. "Thank you, Harry," he turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "Arthur, Molly, I cannot thank you enough for your generosity and hospitality. I shall be in touch."

With a quick smile aimed at Ron, and a knowing look at Fred and George, Dumbledore apparated out of the Burrow.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley clasped her hands together, "We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, boys. Time to get some sleep."

That night, Harry went to sleep comfortably. He had his doubts, his fears, and his concerns, but at least he had hope that things would be okay.

Author's note: Okay, I got this chapter done even though I didn't think I would be able to today, so yay! Skooter, of course you can travel back in time, but you can't travel more than a few hours in time. As we found out in POA, time travel is complicated business. And we will meet Harry's parents soon, as you can see. I want to meet them myself! Haha. Thanks for reading. Thank you everyone for reading! Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

"Harry, Harry," Ron shook him, "Mom says to come to down for breakfast. We'd better get up, mate, because if Fred and George are up and they see you sleeping, they'll sic talking toy goblins or giant spiders on you."

Harry rubbed his eyes. Both he and Ron had fallen asleep as soon as they came back to Ron's room, but inspite of getting a good amount of sleep, he didn't particularly feel like getting up at that moment.

"Come on," Ron continued to prod him as he saw Harry's laziness, "Dumbledore's going to get here soon."

Harry sat straight up, all sleepiness gone. Dumbledore coming meant that today, he would be meeting his parents. He would be meeting parents that weren't clear substances coming out of wands or stones, but real, live parents. These would be people that Harry could see clearly and people that Harry could touch. A lump rose in his throat. For as long as he could remember, Harry had been an orphan, and in just a little bit he wouldn't be.

"Are you okay?" Ron gave him a slight jab near his shoulders.

Harry looked at his best friend. It was weird that Ron was waking him up since it was usually impossible to get Ron out of bed in the mornings.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I guess we'd better go down before Fred and George, huh?"

So, the two friends brushed their teeth, took a shower, and bounded downstairs.

"G'morning, Harry," Mr. Weasley greeted him, "Sleep alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Harry responded and looked at the clock, "Do you know when Professor Dumbledore's going to come here?"

Mrs. Weasley shot him an incomprehensible look, but one that was definitely laced with pity. "He'll be here soon, dear. Would you like some pancackes?"

Harry had been too nervous to think about food until then, but the smell of the pancake batter was making his stomach churn with hunger.

"That'd be great, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, "Thank you."

Mr. Weasley set down the paper he had been reading and sighed. "Another calm day, Molly."

Harry was eager to wolf down the pancackes Mrs. Weasley had set in front of him, but paused at Mr. Weasley's comment. Ron had told him the night before that the Order didn't believe that Voldemort's sudden leave of absence was actually such, but it seemed rather crazy to feel such worry that nothing horrible has happened.

"Isn't that a good thing, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked as he took his first bite.

"It would be if we knew why things were so quiet. After all, Harry, Dark Wizards don't just decide to take a year off. If he's planning something and we're totally unprepared for it, then all the lives that were supposedly saved during this time of calm won't matter because he might do double the damage."

"I still don't understand, Mr. Weasley," Harry continued, "I mean, are you sure that Volde—I mean, You-Know-Who isn't hurt or anything? Maybe he hasn't just disappeared. Maybe it's that something stopped him and he does not have the power to continue."

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "You are correct in that we don't know exactly where he's been or what he's doing, but Dumbledore thinks that he's up to something. He wants something, but we don't know what."

Harry remained silent.

"So, when did you say that Professor Dumbledore would be getting here?"

"It's nice to know that I am welcomed, Harry," Dumbledore's voice came from behind them as the great wizard walked in, "Good morning, Arthur, Molly, Ron. Fred let me in."

"Oh hello Professor," Mrs. Weasley fussed around, "Can I make you some pancakes?"

Dumbledore patted his stomach. "I wouldn't mind a couple, Molly. Never can satiate my sweet tooth, apparently. Thank you."

Mr. Weasley fetched him a plate onto which Mrs. Weasley dropped a heap of pancakes. For a person who just asked for a couple, this did not seem to deter Dumbledore.

"The meeting is going to be at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry. We're going to first meet James and Lily and the others will follow an hour later. I understand that an hour isn't a long time for you all to get properly acquainted, but I'm sure that there will be plenty of time to do so later. Is that alright with you?" Dumbledore asked as soon as he swallowed his first bite.

Harry nodded.

"The Headquarters is a secret location," Dumbledore continued, "So you will not be able to repeat it after you've heard it from me."

Harry understood the nuances of Secret-Keeping.

"Alright then, if you have no more questions, we'll leave in 20 minutes," Dumbledore finished, "If you don't mind though, boys, I'd like a few minutes with Arthur and Molly."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, shrugged and left the room.

"You could have asked him anything!" Ron exclaimed soon as they were out of hearing distance.

"I know," Harry admitted, "I just didn't know what to ask. I have so many questions, but there are way too many and I coudn't decide which direction to go."

His own Ron would have badgered him a lot longer, but this Ron seemed to drop it at that. They walked into the family room, where they could look up to see Fred and George hanging Extendable Ears from the corner of the top of the stairs from where they could hear everything that was being said in the kitchen.

"….looking for something….weapon, perhaps….." Dumbledore was saying.

"What more….want…half….already," Mrs. Weasley's response came.

"….afford….lives…..children……" Mr. Weasley contributed.

"Well, there's nothing…..panicking…..win," Dumbledore concluded.

The voices stopped and the three adults walked out. Harry had to appreciate the twins' quick reflexes because they pulled up those Extendable Ears so quickly that the adults who had come out unannounced didn't seem to suspect anything.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, but said nothing. Harry wanted desperately to discuss what happened, but it didn't seem like Ron had anything to say particularly. It was a frustrating situation for Harry, who in the last two years, had become used to being privy to all information, and then discussing it with Ron and Hermione. It wasn't like this Ron wouldn't talk to him, but they didn't know each other that well. It was one thing discussing Quidditch and Ron filling him in on current events, but to share personal thoughts and ideas are usually reserved for friends. And as weird as it was, Harry supposed that you couldn't exactly count Ron and him as friends.

Harry, Ron, Fred and George went downstairs as if they hadn't heard anything, but Harry caught the ever present twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes that showed him that maybe the Headmaster knew they had been listening in. However, he just looked at Harry and said, "Are you ready to go then?"

Harry nodded. His heart was pounding, he wasn't sure that he'd get through the day without passing out, but he was ready. It's been sixteen years in the making, and he was ready.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley," he said to his surrogate parents, "I'll see you then, I suppose."

Dumbledore looked the Weasleys. "Yes, we shall see you in a short time. I assume Bill, Charlie, and Percy are coming too?"

Mr. Weasley turned to Harry, uncertainly. "That's okay with you, Harry?"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the Weasleys being this formal with him.

Mr. Weasley smiled and shook his hand, and Ron, Fred, and George followed suit. As per her motherly self, Mrs. Weasley gave him a hug—something he was very grateful for since it calmed him just a little.

"Can you apparate Harry?" Dumbledore checked.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Alright then," Dumbledore responded, "I'd still prefer if we could side apparate so we can go to the same place with no confusion. I just wanted to make sure that it's something you have at least apparated before because it can be somewhat uncomfortable."

Harry was reminded of the time when Dumbledore had side apparated him to Slughorn's house, so he definitely knew how uncomfortable it was. If it was up to Harry, he'd never do anything but fly.

"It's fine," he said, "Thank you."

So, Dumbledore and Harry bid their goodbyes and disappeared with a loud pop. The next thing Harry knew he was looking at a row of apartments in what looked to be London.

"This is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry," Dumbledore explained, "But, you won't be able to see till I tell you the exact address."

Harry nodded. His voice was stuck in his throat and even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to talk.

"The address is," Dumbledore leaned towards Harry's ear, "1321 Davinwood Dr. #16, London."

And as they had almost three years ago, the apartments around him shifted to show a small, regular door with the number 16 etched on to it. For some reason, Harry had still expected it to be 12 Grimmauld Place even when he realized they weren't in the right neighborhood, so this new place came as a surprise, especially since he had never been there before.

"We're just a few minutes late, Harry," Dumbledore stood at the door, "So James and Lily might already be here."

Although Harry had been prepared just a minute earlier, and decided he was ready, now that the opportunity of seeing his parents alive, the parents who had been dead for sixteen years, he wasn't sure if he could do it.

'No," he chided himself, 'They're not the same people. Just go in, meet them, and get half the chance that you've never gotten.'

Perhaps Dumbledore could see that Harry was giving himself a pep talk because he just waited patiently until Harry took a deep breath and nodded. Dumbledore turned the knob and opened the door and Harry was able to see the inside of the Headquarters, which was entirely different from the one in his own world. Whereas Grimmauld place had been dirty and grimy, but still opulent, there was simplicity to this Headquarters. The decoration was modest, as though its owner did not really live there, and Harry could see why it would be an ideal place for Headquarters. There was everything they'd need—room to fit large number of people, a ton of informative books, but without the screaming pureblood maniac, so that they could actually get work done in peace.

Dumbledore and Harry stepped inside and Harry could immediately hear the light sound of conversation in the background. Harry's heart leapt. For the very first time, he'd see his parents in corporeal form, and he was hearing their voices, not pleading for anything, not taunting anyone, or giving him advice on how to get out of a deadly situation.

Dumbledore glanced at him through the side of his eyes, and Harry almost had the urge to reach out and take the old wizard's hand for support, but fell back behind his former headmaster. Dumbledore shot him a quick smile and opened another door to what looked to be the dining room, and Harry could hear the people that had been sitting in the room, get up.

"Hello, Professor," Lily Potter came into Harry's obstructed view and smiled at Dumbledore.

"Hi, Albus," James came right after her and shook Dumbledore's hand.

"Hello, Lily—you can call me Albus, you know," Dumbledore returned her smile, "James, how have you been?"

"Alright, but you know, Lily's been nagging me as usua--," James began and caught wind of the Harry who had literally been hiding behind Dumbledore, and addressed him, "Hi."

As though he were a small child too shy to come out from behind his mother's skirt, Harry peeked at James from behind Dumbledore's robes. "Hi."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore nudged Harry forward, who was flaming red with embarrassment, "Here's our guest of honor."

Harry looked at his parents and wouldn't have been able to describe the surge of emotions with him if his life depended on it.

"Hello," Lily smiled at him, "I'm Lily Potter."

It suddenly occurred to Harry that the only time he'd ever seen his mother smile without tears in her eyes was in photographs and he was blown away like only a child who had never really known his mother could be blown away. He looked into her emerald green eyes and was startled at how much they were like his own. He could tell she felt the same way because she gave a jerked glance towards Dumbledore and looked back at him with confusion. Harry looked to James, who had a stony expression on his face, as though he wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

"What's going on, Albus?"

Dumbledore just went on serenly. "I think we should sit down for this," he motioned towards the dining room chairs, "It might take a while."

James and Lily looked at each other and hesitantly followed Dumbledore, but Harry remained stuck to his position in the room. He had definitely not been prepared to meet parents that didn't recognize him and he wasn't sure he really wanted to be there.

"Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, and beckoned him to come forward.

Harry reluctantly moved his feet but avoided the unwavering gazes of Lily and James.

As soon as Harry took a seat, Dumbledore turned back to the elder Potters who grudgingly looked at Dumbledore again.

"What I'm about to tell will to you as a shock," Harry heard Dumbledore say, "and I ask that you just listen before you say anything."

The Hogwarts headmaster paused. "This boy here might look extraordinarily familiar to you. That is because he is a Potter."

"I have no family left, Albus," James protested, and Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that his father was confused beyond all reason. James looked at Harry who immediately lowered his eyes again.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Let me explain, James. This is Harry James Potter," Dumbledore went on before Lily or James could interrupt him again, "He is your son."

This time there were no protests, no exclamations, nothing. The room just stood in an absolute silence.

After about five minutes of pin drop silence, Lily burst out into laughter.

"Are you kidding me?" she said in between trying to catch her breath, "Is this a joke?"

She turned to her husband. "Very funny, James. You got me. I bow down to you, etc., etc. ,etc."

But James Potter did not seem to find this amusing at all.

"Lily, I have no idea what's going on here. This is not a joke," he told his wife and looked back at Dumbledore seriously, "What is going on here, Albus? What's the meaning of this?"

"It means exactly that, James" Dumbledore replied, "It seems that Harry here…"

"Professor, there's no way! I mean, I know my kids. I pushed them out!" Lily interrupted disbelievingly.

"Lily, just…" Dumbledore tried to appeal to her before getting interrupted again by the other adult Potter.

"This has got to be a scam, Albus," James shook his head, "Even if you believe whatever story is being sold to you, this is a scam."

Harry resisted the urge to laugh. After all this time, all his nerves, his greatest wish was becoming his worst nightmare. Harry must have made some sort of sound because all three adults looked at him at the same time. This time, however, Harry did not look down, and looked at his parents straight in the eye.

"This is not a scam," Harry never expected that those would be the first conversational words he'd ever say to his parents.

But James and Lily turned back to Dumbledore.

"This is just not possible, Albus. I think we'd know if he was our son," James tried to convince Dumbledore.

"Let me explain first," Dumbledore said firmly and sent a reassuring look towards Harry, "This boy here is not lying. His allegiances are true and to the Light and only to the Light. I trust him."

He ignored Lily and James' contesting looks.

"Furthermore, he is your son. It may be hard to believe, as this whole situation will be hard to believe, but it is, nonetheless, real."

James looked up to say something, but Dumbledore continued.

"If you give me the chance to explain, I will," He looked at the Potter parents, and when he received no response, he went on, "Harry is from another dimension."

"What?" Lily and James cried out at the same time.

Dumbledore motioned to them that he would explain everything, but James was still shaking his head.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Would you like to tell them how you got here, Mr. Potter?"

James turned to Harry hearing Dumbledore refer to Harry as Mr. Potter. Harry caught his father's eye and realized he definitely did not want to explain, but that's what he would do anyway.

"Uh, yeah, I was at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's house at the Burrow," he cleared his throat, trying to sound normal, "and Ron and I were trying to clean his room, but he threw a box at me and when I woke up, I was at St. Mungo's."

"I was alerted by Auror Zambershan that there was a person of interest at St. Mungo's that could be a threat to our security, so I went at St. Mungo's where Harry was a patient," Dumbledore added, "He had been found by Dedalus and Diddas Diggle in the Macara woods, who saw that he had a wand, and brought him to St.Mungo's before muggles could take him to one of their hospitals."

He signaled Harry to continue.

"So, when I woke up, the Medi-Witch told me that they could find a registration on me or something like that and so they alerted the Aurors and Dawlish and Zambershan came in to ask me questions," Harry said, trying his best to go on and do what needed to be done. Dumbledore seemed to recognize that Harry had no interest in telling this tale, because he picked up the story again.

"After I got there, it was clear to see that there were many anomalies with the situation. First, St. Mungo's identification system could not identify him, and as you know, the system is designed to at least name any person of wizarding blood," Dumbledore explained, "So either Harry had to be a muggle, which cannot be since he had a wand, or he must not have existed, which is also unlikely as he was right in front of us. Second, Harry referred to things that have not happened in our world. He said he was with Ron Weasley and immediately asked for Arthur when he realized he was at St. Mungo's, but neither Arthur nor any of the other Weasley family members had ever met this Harry before. Also, Harry seemed to think that Voldemort had been defeated."

"Wha..?" James gasped and Lily turned to look at Harry with an unusual look in her eyes. Harry turned away—he could not do this.

"Yes, I'll be getting to that later," Dumbledore went on, "So, there were a lot of hints that something was not right. Then, we examined Harry's possessions that he carried with him from his own world. He just had his wand on his person as well as a small box that lay very close to his proximity when found in the woods. When we opened this box, we found a Deluminator inside it, which I'm sure you know, Lily, has many uses that we still do not know."

Lily nodded slightly.

"I, myself, did some research on inter-dimensional traveling and recognized that the Deluminator does have quality, in very rare cases, to be able to support such traveling, which is how we came to the conclusion that Harry is from another dimension, unlike our own where he is your son, and where Voldemort is dead."

But Lily and James were no longer looking at Dumbledore. Instead, all of their attention suddenly landed on Harry. In the strangest of ways, Harry, who had been disappointed just a little while ago that his parents did not seem trust him, was now uncomfortable with the awed way they were looking at him now.

For a while, there was no movement and there was nothing said. Everyone was just processing the information and trying to gather enough brainpower to form a cohesive sentence. If language were ever a barrier, certainly it was now. There was no possible way to explain what it is like to see your son, a son you never knew you had, but who was still your son, and there's no way to put into words what it means to be able to see parents when all your life you have craved for their love and presence.

It was James that finally broke the silence. "So, Harry Potter, huh?" he almost heaved out, and looked at his wife, "We thought about naming Chris Harry, didn't we?"

But Lily did not respond. She was still looking at Harry with such an odd expression that Harry desperately wished she would stop.

"So, is Harry our Chris then?" James asked hesitantly and Lily finally reacted and looked at Dumbledore for a response.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not know," he said, and suddenly moved towards Harry as if he had an idea, "When is your birthday, Harry? How old are you?"

"July 31," Harry was confused, "I'm 17."

"But Chris turned 17 on June 12," James was also puzzled.

"I do not know the significance of this," Dumbledore stroked his beard, "But this does mean that Harry and Chris are not the same person."

"Who's Chris?" Harry asked. He'd heard Ron talk about Chris so this was obviously something.

Dumbledore, James, and Lily all looked at him at the same time.

"Does Chris not exist in your world?" James asked in a strange voice.

"No," Harry shook his head.

"Chris is the eldest child of James and Lily, Harry," Dumbledore looked at him with a questioning expression, "Chris, Dahlia, and Grant."

It made a lot of sense. Ron thinking he might be related to Chris, Zambershan saying that the Potters did not have a Harry. Harry could not believe that he didn't put two and two together, but he never had any siblings in his own world, so it didn't even occur to him that his parents might have other children.

"No," he finally said, "I don't know any of them. I am an only child."

James stared. "Huh."

"That's very curious," Dumbledore laid his arms on the table, "Very curious."

"It's not that curious," Harry blurted out and the three adults, lost in their own thoughts, were startled, "I mean, there can't have been any brothers and sisters."

They continued to just look at him, and it occurred to Harry that they did not know that James and Lily had died. He contemplated not telling them for a moment, but then realized that the truth would come out regardless because a part of the Order would be coming in soon, and he told Dumbledore that he would tell them about Voldemort's defeat, which was so inextricably linked to Harry, and thus, his entire family. He couldn't let them walk into that not knowing anything.

"My parents died," he said simply, not knowing of any other way to say it.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Dead?" James whispered.

Harry nodded. "You were killed by Voldemort when I was a baby."

For the third time in less than an hour, another silence fell over the room. For a group of people filled with a million questions and comments, they could not figure out a way to communicate what they needed to say.

"But you lived?" Lily finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, the knot in this throat getting heavier.

"Oh, thank God," Lily let out a huge breath, with tears in her eyes, "Thank God."

Harry looked up at his mother surprised. They stared at each other for a moment and Lily got up and took a couple of steps towards him. To Harry's further shock, she came up to him, took his hands into hers and hugged him. Whatever tears Harry had been holding in threatened to tumble over, as this was the first real hug he'd gotten from his mother. James got up and patted Harry on the back, awkwardly.

"It's good that you say Voldemort's name," he said to Harry, as though there were a lot of other things he'd rather say, but didn't know how.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry pulled back.

After a moment of hesitancy, James spoke again. "Did you have a good life?"

Harry didn't quite know how to answer that, so he just nodded. "Yes."

"That's good," James swallowed.

After that, it seemed like no one knew quite what to say. The accepting and loving mood of just a second ago vanished as the three Potters became strangers again.

"Uh, I'm sorry for doubting you in the beginning," Lily said, and James nodded.

"No," Harry shrugged it off, "It's understandable."

"Where have you been staying?" Lily asked.

"At the Weasleys," Harry responded, "Mr. Weasley was there when we figured everything out, so…."

"Yeah," James repeated, "That's good."

"You'll come stay with us now, of course," Lily stated and looked towards Dumbledore as if daring him to contradict her.

"By all means," Dumbledore answered her nonverbal statement.

Harry was pleased that they wanted him to stay with them, but dreaded the awkwardness that was sure to ensue. After all, this conversation was the most awkward he'd ever had to endure in his life. Other than the few minutes when Lily hugged him and James patted him, this was an extremely formal situation with no comfort in sight. The rational part of Harry knew that this was a lot to process in such a short period of time. This Lily and James never had a Harry, they never lost a child, they never went through a process of having grieved for kin the way Harry had, so what could they do? Other than the fact that they shared blood with this person in front of them, they had no connection to him, so he can't just all of a sudden become their son. Yes, Harry understood all of this, but damn if he wasn't miserable all the same. It wasn't just James and Lily either. For some reason, he'd always expected his reunion with his parents to be filled with hugs and kisses and comfort like it was with Mrs. Weasley, but even more than that. Of course, Lily's hug was everything he'd ever imagined a mother's hug to be, but it had been so brief that now he couldn't even remember if it actually happened. He thought he'd have a million things to say, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say to the people in front of him right now. It didn't mean that he didn't long for it, far from it, but he didn't know how to express what he wanted to express.

"The Order will be coming in soon," Dumbledore stated, cutting into Harry's thoughts, and apparently James and Lily's as well, considering the looks on their faces, "It will be us, Sirius, Remus, the Weasleys, and Alastor Moody. I thought that this first meeting should be kept among as few of us as possible."

"Sirius? Sirius is coming?" Harry couldn't even figure out why he was so surprised.

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said, alarmed at Harry's expression, "Should he not?"

"No, no, no," Harry said quickly, "Of course he should."

James, Lily, and Dumbledore relaxed and Harry forced himself to be the same.

Of course Sirius was coming. After all, out of the fifteen people that would be present for this meeting, seven were dead.

Except that they weren't. Not here.

Author's note: This was, by far, one of the hardest things to write. Ever. There's some things you may not understand—about the plot, about Lily and James' behavior, but I hope you stick with it because things will be clarified. Thanks for reading! Please review!


	8. Chapter 8

The three Potters and Dumbledore all sat at the table, waiting for the invited Order members to show up. James kept up a constant drumming of his fingers and every once in a while threw furtive glance at Harry, as if trying to see through him. Lily looked at the table mostly, but smiled at Harry every few minutes as though she was expressly trying to make an effort to make sure that he felt comfortable and not disliked. Of course, her almost timed smiles at him were doing the exact opposite of what they were supposed to do, but Harry could still appreciate the sentiment behind them. Harry himself just looked around the room. There wasn't too much in the dining area for him to stare at, but he didn't think it would go over particularly well if he just stared at his parents, so he took to counting the number of marks on the walls. Only Dumbledore looked to utterly comfortable. Every once in a while he'd even hum to himself and make an odd comment offering background information of some random song, which made Harry wonder how someone as busy as Dumbledore could know that the song, "If you knew" was Celestina Warbeck's tribute to Stubby Boardman, a popular member of the band The Hobgoblins.

"You went to Hogwarts, then?" James asked, breaking the silence.

Harry almost groaned. The silence was uncomfortable, yes, but at least there were no expectations to say anything. Now that the route was back onto conversations, he'd have to say something, and someone else would have to say something else, and when they fall back into the inevitable silence, it would be even more awkward than before.

"Yeah," Harry tried to think of an answer that would be more than one word, "I was in Gryffindor."

James snorted. "As if there were ever a chance that you wouldn't be."

Harry had to keep himself from wanting to dance. Knowing that his father thought there was no way he'd be in anything but Gryffindor made him so entirely and absolutely pleased, that he felt as though having this memory would have made it that much easier to learn how to do the Patronus charm in his third year.

Recognizing the thrilled look on Harry's face, James straightened, as though proud he was able to say the right thing finally.

Lily shot an amused look at her husband. "James seems to think that there is only one actual house in Hogwarts, and all the others are just random ways to have different colors and to cream in Quidditch."

"Of course," James made a sweeping motion with his arms.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with any of the other houses," Lily snuffed, "I was almost in Ravenclaw myself."

"Too bad you weren't put in Ravenclaw," James taunted her, "Maybe then I would have had peace of mind while I was at Hogwarts."

"James Potter," Lily began, "After all that you did to make my life hell, you tell me…."

"James, will you never learn?" Remus Lupin entered the room, teasing his friend, "Lily is always right."

Remus walked further inside and then mock whispered to James. "Or at least that's what we let her think."

Harry tried to stop himself from whirling around, but couldn't control it as well as he would have liked to. Remus came closer to Harry, his hand outstretched for introductions, but came to a halt midway. He stared from James to Harry back and forth, and finally settled on Harry with a contemplative expression.

"Remus," Dumbledore stood, recognizing Remus' dilemma, "How are you?"

Remus tore his gaze away from Harry and looked up at Dumbledore. "I'm fine, Professor," he nodded, "Everything's great. So, what's the…"

"And how are Nymphadora and Teddy?" Dumbledore continued, ignoring the beginning of Remus' question, "I hear his metamorphagus abilities are improving almost daily."

Harry gave a sigh of relief. So Tonks was okay, too. Teddy had both his parents. He wouldn't have to grow up like Harry had.

"…Andromeda was saying that not even Tonks could do that when she was four," Remus was saying proudly.

Teddy was four? If it weren't for the fact that Harry was standing in a room filled with people who were all supposed to be dead, that would have shocked him.

There was a loud bang at the front of the door, interrupting any further conversation between the five of them.

"You will NOT, I repeat NOT, be involved in any of this funny business," Molly Weasley was shouting at her twin sons, "And you, Sirius, I would have hoped that you would discourage them from this nonsense."

"I'm telling you, Molly," a male voice filled with amusement was speaking, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The five people in the dining room went near the entrance way and watched as this exchange take place. Harry craned his neck to see through the crowd of people, hoping to get a peek at his Godfather. Out of all the deaths that Harry had to grieve, Sirius' had been the hardest, and this was including his parents. When his parents died, he was just a baby and didn't know any different. When Cedric died, it was the first real death he'd seen, and it threw him for a loop because he knew Cedric didn't deserve it, but he never felt like he was drowning as a result. Dumbledore had been a mentor, and his death was excruciating, as was Fred's, and Remus', and Tonks', but Sirius had been his hope. Sirius had been the one bright light in Harry's life. In Sirius, Harry found a friend, a mentor, a confidante, and what he needed the most—a father. He was someone who would always look to Harry's best interests, regardless of all other situations, the way only a parent would do for their child. Harry had never known his parents, never grew to love him for who they were as they were since he'd only ever gotten snippets of them, but he had known Sirius, and he did love him for who he was and everything he was. So, when Harry lost Sirius, he didn't just lose his closest connection to his father, he actually lost a father, in every sense of the word.

"Molly," Dumbledore tried to calm the Weasley family matriarch, "What is the matter?"

"These two," she jerked her hand towards the twins, "seem to think that their life calling is to prank people and open a joke shop!"

She glared at them as if she couldn't believe that they were putting her through this. "They've been sending business proposals to Sirius," she gestured with her other hand at Harry's Godfather, who was still blocked from his view, "and he's been responding back, encouraging them."

"Molly, dear, I don't think that now is the time….." Mr. Weasley put a hand on his wife's shoulder nervously.

"Well, Arthur, _dear_," Mrs. Weasley turned her anger towards her husband, "When do _you_ think this would be appropriate?"

"Okay, alright," Harry could see Sirius hands motioning Mrs. Weasley to calm down, "I won't be accepting anymore business proposals from your sons, Molly."

"Right you are!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Well, then, now that this is settled," Dumbledore spoke again, his eyes shining with mirth, "Let us go into the sitting room to wait for Alastor. We have some introductions to get across."

Lily caught Harry's eye and she sent him a reassuring glance. Just then, the Weasleys moved from their spot, and out of the corner of Harry's vision, he could see Sirius sending Fred and George a wink. James, who had been standing next to him, immediately went over to Sirius and was about to whisper something when Alastor Moody, the final guest to the meeting, entered through the front door.

"Good timing, Alastor!" Dumbledore said with a smile, "Now we can all just get started."

"Yeah, yeah," Moody growled his usual greeting, "I see everyone's here. Where's the damn boy?"

"Maybe the tone is a little unnecessary, Alastor," Lily spoke tightly.

Moody fixed his eyes on her. "I see that Dumbledore has filled you in on his ludicrous idea that the boy is…"

"Let's all take a seat," Dumbledore interrupted, and motioned to Harry to come near him. Harry went towards Dumbledore, who was near the center of the room, and caught Ron's eye who smiled at him. He then looked at Bill, Charlie, and Percy who were looking at him curiously. Harry assumed that the other Weasleys filled them in on who he was. He smiled at the three, and they smiled back briefly and uncertainly. None of them had spoken yet. Harry avoided Sirius' eye, but could feel them following his every move. Harry knew he was protective of his friends, and had no doubt that he would be hard to convince. In fact, Harry was surprised that he hadn't said anything as of yet. The Sirius he knew definitely wouldn't have been able to restrain himself that well. Harry pretended to look around the room just to get a brief look at this world's Sirius Black. Even from the momentary glance, he could tell that this Sirius looked a lot different from the one he had known. The Sirius here looked younger, lighter, happier, and more in control of himself. He had the posture of a fighter, perhaps that of an Auror, but it was almost relaxed and lazy, unlike the tense one Harry was used to from Sirius.

"To an extent, these introductory remarks are mostly for Sirius and Remus," Dumbledore began, having concluded the same as Harry that Bill, Charlie, and Percy had been filled in by their family, "and what I'm about to tell you is, quite simply, shocking."

Dumbledore looked straight into Sirius' eyes, knowing that out of the two friends of James, he would be the one that would be harder to convince.

"The person that you don't recognize in this room is Harry Potter. He is the son of Lily and James Potter from another dimension."

Remus lifted his hand to support his face and Sirius looked like he was trying to decide if they were all playing a joke on him.

"How can that be?" Remus seemed to take the mature route.

"As I've explained to the Weasleys, who were kind enough to host Harry last night, and James and Lily and Alastor, Harry traveled to this dimension with the use of Deluminator."

"And we trust this theory?"

"For one thing, the theory was not put forth by Harry here, and for another, we don't seem to have many other choices."

Remus turned to Harry after Dumbledore's response, and Harry could see the distrust still in Remus' eyes.

"Why did you come to this world then?" he asked in a surprisingly harsh manner that Harry was unaccustomed to.

Before Harry could respond, however, James spoke on behalf of him. "Remus," he said quietly and his friend seemed to understand because he backed down. Harry then instinctively turned to Sirius, who stared straight back.

"Remus might no longer need that question answered, James," he addressed his best friend, "But, I do."

Harry definitely was unprepared for Sirius to not trust him. He looked to Ron for a signal of support, but received another jolt when he found Ron's eyes just looking at him, with no particular emotion to convey. He wanted a Ron who knew him to be there, he wanted Hermione there, he wanted Ginny there, but they weren't. He was going to have to deal with this on his own.

"Sirius," Lily's voice spoke up, "We trust him."

But Sirius did not look away from Harry.

"I didn't want to come to this world," he tried to explain, "I didn't try to come here. It was an accident!"

Sirius gave an incredulous laugh. "Right. Of course. Voldemort disappears and you show up. It's all just a coincidence."

"Sirius," James' voice had a warning tone to it, "That's enough."

Sirius turned to James. "Are you joking, James? You really believe all this?"

Dumbledore broke into the conversation. "I assure you, Sirius, that Harry is no supporter of Voldemort. He really is James and Lily's son."

"Albus," Sirius wasn't convinced, "This is not the time for us to be reckless. We don't know anything about this kid. He just shows up one day and tells us that he's James and Lily's son? You were the one that told us that Voldemort's quietness doesn't mean that he's not around anymore."

He looked around at the room, almost trying to gather their support.

"Just a year ago, the Auror department was going crazy trying to maintain their staff. Considering that James is a high ranking official in that, and the fact that Lily is working for the Department of Research for Magical Potions and Artifacts, don't you think that they'd be a target?"

"Of course!" Moody chimed in.

"Think it through properly," Dumbledore stated reasonably, "What motivation does Voldemort have to target James and Lily? There are other high ranking officials in the Ministry that Voldemort could get a lot more out of. Also, why would he target James and Lily first and especially after being quiet for so long? Don't you think that he would go after someone that he needed? What could he possibly need from them that we can't even hazard a guess?"

Sirius had no answer for a moment.

"You never know, Albus," he shook his head, "We don't know everything about his plans."

"True," Dumbledore did not argue, "But, they certainly don't include Harry Potter. All the evidence shows that he is not a threat to us."

"You know I wouldn't do anything if it posed a threat to my family and friends, Sirius," James intervened, "This is difficult for all of us, but it is the truth."

Harry could tell that Sirius was still unconvinced. Remus looked confused, as if he didn't know what to believe, but Sirius was still mostly unshaken.

"Maybe I can prove it somehow," Harry looked around uncertainly, "Maybe I could take Veritaserum. You know. If you want."

"No!" Lily Potter said at the same time that Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "He's just a child!"

"If you honestly all believe that he should take Veritaserum," Dumbledore looked a little tired, "and I mean, honestly believe that, regardless of your fears, then we shall take Mr. Potter's offer."

"No," James said firmly, his eyes fixed on Sirius, "No, we won't be taking him up on his offer."

He looked at everyone in the room. "Dumbledore trusts him. Albus has never led us astray and you all know that he would never just trust someone for the sake of trusting them, especially when there are other lives he must take into consideration. Even more than that, I trust Harry. Whatever the situation may be, and whatever we may not understand, I at least believe that Harry is not working for Voldemort."

His eyes met the eyes of every person in the room, conveying to him that he would not falter from this stance. Finally, he looked at Harry and nodded. Harry, who had felt completely alone just a moment ago, felt the life rushing back into him. He turned to Sirius, who looked slightly uncomfortable at James' words. While Sirius' words may seem angry and even unkind, Harry knew Sirius, no matter what world he came from. He knew that he was just concerned for James and his family, and that the concern comes from love.

"I am definitely not working for Voldemort," he told his Godfather looking straight into his eyes. Those words, more than anything else, seemed to penetrate into Sirius' mind and he looked slightly mollified and more prepared to hear what Harry had to say. Harry then looked to Remus, who was looking at him like he'd never quite seen anything like him before.

"There are some irregularities between Harry's world and our own," Dumbledore settled into his seat and brought the topic back to why they were all there in the first place, "including the fact that Lily and James are dead in his world…."

Dumbledore ignored the gasps and curses. "And the fact that Voldemort appears to be dead where he comes from."

"Are you sure that You-Know-Who is dead?" Bill's raspy voice said, after a momentary pause that was a result of shock, "He hasn't just disappeared?"

Harry shook his head. "He's definitely dead. He was hit by the Avada Kedavra. I was there."

Fred and George who had been quiet up until then, looked at each other, yipped out a loud "YES!" and high-fived each other.

Dumbledore smiled. "Unfortunately, that does not mean that the Voldemort plaguing our own world is…"

"Why would you be there?" Lily was looking at Harry strangely, "You would have been in school till just a couple of months ago."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. He felt stuck again.

"It's a long story."

"Your life is your own, Harry," Dumbledore told him gently, "But anything you can offer us is a way for us to make this world safer from Voldemort's atrocities."

Harry turned to James, who gave him a small, but odd smile. Harry really did not know what to do. Was he to sit there and tell them everything that had happened in his life from the momenthe entered Hogwarts? Was it all necessary? In the end, he decided to give them the cliff notes version with major editing and maybe even minor falsification. Whatever he needed to do to end Voldemort, he would do.

Harry cleared his throat. "When I was a baby, Voldemort attempted to kill my family. He killed my father, and then my mother, but because my mother protected me rather than save herself, Voldemort could not kill me."

Harry did not look at anyone directly.

"In my world, Voldemort disappeared at that time. For years, everyone thought that he was defeated. When I was in my fourth year, he came back using a spell that included the use of some of my blood. The big question on everyone's mind after he came back was why he didn't just die when the Avada Kedavra backfired on him. So, Professor Dumbledore," Harry motioned to the Hogwarts headmaster, "I mean, our Professor Dumbledore realized that Voldemort could not die because his soul wasn't completely in his body."

Harry looked at Dumbledore who did not look entirely surprised at this revelation. He could almost feel the tension in the room coming from its other occupants, but they all seemed to be controlling their thoughts and emotions.

"We realized that Voldemort had made Horcruxes, meaning that he put a part of his soul into seven different magical objects."

"Seven?" Dumbledore uttered, clearly not expecting the number to be so high, "He can't have even been human then."

"He wasn't," Harry concurred, "He definitely wasn't. So, the first thing we had to do was destroy all the Horcruxes before we could attempt to destroy him."

"What were the Horcruxes?" Dumbledore asked as soon as Harry paused. They were the only two even moving. The rest of the room seemed to be at a standstill. Ron, Fred, and George looked utterly confused as if they'd never heard the word Horcrux before.

This was the question Harry had been dreading, but was prepared to answer. He started telling them the story and he would finish doing so.

"There was a diary into which Voldemort put a part of his soul—his sixteen year old self. Then there was a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, a ring that belonged to his grandfather, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, Slytherin's locket, and Nagini, Voldemort's snake, were the Horcruxes that he intended to make, splitting his soul into six separate bodies. But, when he killed my mother," Harry swallowed, "and the curse rebounded, he made me into a Horcrux too."

"Albus, this is madness!" Moody shouted, "Absolute madness!"

Harry looked at his parents, who had identical looks of shock written on their faces. Lily's eyes became large and James was gripping his own hands.

"You couldn't have survived then," Dumbledore paid no attention to the other members of the Order, and instead just stared intently at Harry, "You would have had to die in order for him to be dead."

Harry felt funny explaining this to the very person who had explained it to him. "When my mother died for me," he shot Lily a nervous look, "she provided me with a protection that made it so that Voldemort couldn't really touch me or kill me. So, when Voldemort took my blood in my fourth year, he had the same blood protection, which meant that I couldn't die as long as he lived. I didn't know any of this at the time so I thought I just had to die, but it happened so that when he hit me with the Avada Kedavra, he killed his own soul that was in me and not the actual me."

Harry almost felt as though he was recounting someone else's story.

"So who killed him finally?" James asked, but looked like he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the response.

"He killed himself, in a way," Harry said, after a few moment's pause, not able to think of a better way to explain what happened at Hogwarts that night, "The killing curse that was supposed to be for me kind of just backfired on him."

He could feel the disbelief and confusion radiating from the occupants of the room.

"My boy," Dumbledore spoke in wonder, "How is that even possible?"

Harry hesitated. To venture into this part of the story meant opening up a whole new can of worms, and these worms have the power to destroy worse than the others.

"Listen, boy," Moody's impatient voice chided him, "Now is not the time for you to turn into a great big cat. Tell us what you know!"

Harry took a small breath, and opened his mouth only to shut it again. He wasn't sure how to best tell this story.

"Come on, Harry, it's okay," Remus' kind voice encouraged him. Harry looked at the werewolf, and gathered strength from the fact that Remus now seemed to trust him.

"Voldemort and I had the same core in our wands," Harry was almost ashamed to admit any similarities between his nemesis and himself, "So we couldn't really use it against each other. When he was trying to find another wand, he learned of the Elder Wand, which is a wand that is supposed to be undefeatable in a duel."

"The Elder Wand! Like in the Tales of Beedle the Bard!??!" Ron exclaimed and then paused midway in his inflection, horrified that he had spoken up. However, no one else seemed to notice that he had said anything at all because they were all staring at Dumbledore who looked like Harry had never seen him before. The tall, white haired man seemed to shrink, and in his eyes, Harry could see that the man was lost in deep thoughts.

"Yes, like the story," Harry continued, since it was much easier to get it over with now that he had started, "But, to be able to properly use the wand, you have to be…"

"Its rightful master," Dumbledore cut in, his voice a mere whisper.

"Right," Harry nodded, pushing the bangs out of his eyes, "And Voldemort wasn't. I was. So, when he tried to use the Avada Kedavra on me, my own wand couldn't hurt me, so the curse rebounded and he…died."

"Just like that," Dumbledore still spoke in that tone of amazement.

"I still don't get it," Sirius looked at James and Lily before Harry, "Why would you be so involved in all this? Why would he want to kill you when you were a baby, why would he want your blood, why would he pursue you, why would you be the master of the Elder Wand, assuming it exists? Basically, why on hell is it you?"

Despite his suspicious words, Harry could tell that Sirius was closer to believing him now than when he first came in, but couldn't understand why Sirius wouldn't know why Voldemort was so interested in him.

"Er, I suppose it's because of, you know, the prophecy," Harry was confused. Didn't they know about the prophecy?

"You expect us to believe that there is a prophecy that involves Voldemort and a seventeen year old boy?!" Moody remarked in his usual fashion.

"Alastor, I'd appreciate it if you kept the antagonism to a minimum," James Potter addressed his superior in a tone that he had clearly never taken with him before.

Moody shot him a surprised look, but backed down nonetheless.

"There _is_ a prophecy," Harry told Moody in a manner that showed that, he too, was tired of being attacked, "Maybe it doesn't exist here, but…."

"No," Dumbledore's eyes held the most serious of expressions, "Prophecies are one of those things that exist in all worlds regardless of the circumstances, although it could be that the prophecy was never enacted. I must say, though, I have not heard the prophecy."

No one but Harry seemed to really understand Dumbledore's statement.

"It was you who heard it in my world," Harry told his mentor, "and it was the reason my parents were killed, and it was put into action in my world."

Harry felt a surge the familiar surge of anger that came when he talked about the prophecy. He hadn't felt much of that emotion since the end of the war, which just left him with a since of relief and weariness, but seeing these people here, all his loved ones alive, reminded him of what he'd lost—what he'd never had.

"What is the prophecy?" Lily asked and Harry could see on her face the same regret he felt.

"It basically said that some would be born at the end of July, to parents that have defeated Voldemort three times, and that neither Voldemort nor that person can survive while the other one is still alive."

"Oh Good Lord," muttered Mrs. Weasley, "You're just a child. Just a boy."

"And that was supposed to be you?" Sirius asked, completely involved in the story Harry was telling. Of course, Harry knew that this didn't mean that Sirius was completely rid of his doubts, but he also understood that there was something to Harry's tale.

"It was supposed to be either me or Neville Longbottom," Harry admitted, "But when Voldemort attacked me, the prophecy became about me."

"Neville?!" The Weasley twins both exclaimed, but their comment went unnoticed.

Harry, in of his very rare moments, pulled his hair off of his forehead to show them his scar. "This is the mark he gave me."

"And you've had to live with that?" Lily's voice tightened as her eyes swept his forehead, "You couldn't get rid of it?"

"No, he wouldn't be able to," Dumbledore peered into Harry, if that was possible, "It might have even been useful."

Harry gave a curt nod. The cursed scar had been both of use and of complete and utter misery.

Like it had when it was just Harry, Dumbledore, and his parents, the room had gone silent as everyone reviewed and contemplated the newest revelations. The unasked questions and curiosity could be felt in the air.

"Professor," Harry felt the need to ask, "Will this really help? I mean, everything is so different here, and you said this world is different because the choices that people made aren't the same, so…"

"People do make different choices, Harry," Dumbledore gave a rueful smile, "But, Voldemort is obsessed with just one thing. In his unrelenting pursuit, it is likely he might have made at least similar choices. Also, I have reason to believe that this world is actually fairly close to the one you have lived in, so we might find more in common than what we see at face value."

"But, Professor, we didn't have Voldemort around for years, and you never had that," Harry lightly protested, before a horrible thought struck him. If there was anything that might be the same as it was in his world, it would be death, especially since Voldemort was never gone here. "Who's dead here?"

"That's kind of an open ended question, isn't it?" Moody looked at him like he was dumb, and Harry supposed the question was somewhat ridiculous.

"I mean, is Ce—are there any dead Hogwarts students?" he didn't think this was the right time to mention names of the dead.

"There have been lots of families that have been torn apart by Voldemort, Harry," Dumbledore said with a heavy heart, "and Hogwarts has been no exception. Unfortunately, Justin Finch-Fletchley and his family were massacred in their home two summers ago by a Death Eater hoping to gain Voldemort's favor. However, at the risk of sounding cavalier, while we have had students lose their family members, we have not lost any more students, and Hogwarts is and will remain a safe haven for anyone who wishes it to be."

Harry felt a gush of relief. Perhaps adrenaline had been able to keep Harry going, but with that relief, Harry also felt a wave of exhaustion. Dumbledore must have sensed it because he stood immediately.

"I think, maybe, that we have had enough for today," he turned to Harry, "Thank you, Harry, for telling us what you know."

He looked at the others in the room. "We shall have another meeting soon. We will then decide what we are going to do now."

Harry's shoulders went up. There was another battle to fight, but this time, he would win. He wouldn't just not lose like what happened in his world, no, he would actually win. There was no way he was going to allow Voldemort to rip apart this world too.

Author's note: Okay, I take back my comment from the last chapter. THIS was the hardest to write. Haha. Things are going to be getting quite busy as we'll be getting a rush of relatives who'll be dropping by our house as well as school starting, but rest assured that I WILL finish this and will update at least once a week. We're just getting started. Thanks! Please review!

Also, thanks to Mystery Gal and ProngsandLilyFlower for their great suggestions and Delicate Princess who has just been wonderful in offering her services for reading over my work! Seriously, thanks!


	9. Author's note!

Hey people,

You have to understand that I love the Harry Potter world. I started reading when I was young and the series almost feels like it's a part of my life because it's been around for so long and influenced me in so many different ways. JKR created these beautiful characters that I spent a significant part of my life laughing with and crying with and experiencing with. The Same Life was something I really wanted to do and I still want to do it. However, when you have such respect for these characters and this amazing world, you don't want to do it disservice and that's what I was convinced I was going to do. Recently, I came to realize that there's no way I'll NOT be able to disservice to this series—it's amazing as it is, but that doesn't mean that I can't tell a story. I'll say it simply: I am not a great writer. I never learned grammar, which is the very foundation to writing. This isn't some weird self confidence thing: it's just the truth. I'm okay with this. There will be elements to this story that will be dumb, oversimplified, badly written and the words on paper will probably never match the scene in my mind, but I hope that you all will continue to read what I put up there just for the hell of it. I start spring break next week and AFTER that, I will start updating this story as well. I want to finish this.

Thanks,

Nic

P.S. I generally hate Author's Notes, but I had to do it so y'all would get the message. Also, this is kind of weird, but I haven't really done the whole fanfic thing in a while, but recently I clicked on Wheezy by Lyin to see if she (?) updated (on my favorite stories list) and I was SO impressed by how well it was written, how well the characters are portrayed, and I also started to cry again. The story reminded me how much I love HP and how much I love Fred and Remus and everyone and how The Same Life gives me an opportunity to get back at least in one sense.


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